Scars
by The-World-Hates-Me72
Summary: I've had a hard life. I've been beaten down with words and disgusted glances. No one blames me more than myself. Cutting, jumping, and overdose. None of them worked. Then I met them. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.
1. Chapter 1

Amelia woke up on the couch in her sister's house. She layed there for a few minutes before sitting up and stretching.

"Finally, Freak, you're up." Jen, her sister, exclaimed before throwing my bag at Amelia's face. "Now, get out."

"Aren't you just a bowl full a sunshine. I'll be out in five minutes." Amelia replied before running to the bathroom.

She opened her bag and switched her clothes. She put on a pair of skinny jeans and a green top, when she was done she opened the door and her blue coat was thrown at her.

"Out. I have a friend coming over, and I don't want you to be here." Jen told me.

"Whatever, I have work until eight tonight. I'll be back by nine." Amelia said, buttoning her coat up.

"How about you get your own flat, huh? I'm getting annoyed with you and your clumsy arse being here." Jen responded.

"I'm trying, Jennifer. Once I get the money, I'm gone." Amelia said before leaving.

Amelia was running through the park when she bumped into something and fell.

"Ow" Amelia moaned.

"Amelia, you need to watch where you are going." She heard a male voice say before helping her up.

"Thanks Mike." Amelia said looking at him.

"No problem. Where are you heading?" Mike answered.

"Work. I don't have enough money to live in a flat alone." She sighed, sitting down on a bench.

"Well, how about I buy you a coffee?" He asked.

"Sure," Amelia smiled. "Caffine would be lovely."

He smiled at her before looking at a man with a crutch that walked by.

"John." Mike said.

"John Watson." He repeated before getting up and walking to him. "Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together."

"Yes, sorry, Mike, hello." John greeted him as he shook Mike's outstretched hand.

"I heard you were aboard somewhere getting shot at. What happened?" Mike responded.

"I got shot." John responded.

"How about some coffee? I'm already buying an extra one, how about you come along?" Mike asked.

"Sure, I could go for some coffee." John answered.

While the three walked to a coffee stand Amelia spoke up.

"I'm Amelia Jones, by the way." She said.

"Oh, right. I'm John Watson." John answered.

"Nice to meet you, John." Amelia smiled.

"Likewise." He replied before they ordered their coffee.

"Are you still at Barts?" John asked Mike after they got coffee and sat down on a bench.

"Teaching. Bright young things like we used to be. God I hate them." Mike chuckled. "What about you, staying in town till you get yourself sorted?"

"I can't afford London on an army pension." John replied.

"And you couldn't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the John Watson I know." He commented. "Well Amelia here is looking for a flat as well. And lucky for you two I know someone who can help. Follow me."

Mike got up and threw away his cup, as so did Amelia and John.

"Where are we going?" Amelia asked Mike as they walked into Barts.

"To meet acquaintance of mine." Mike answered her.

They walked in silence until Mike opened a door and we walked inside.

"A bit different from my day." John said.

When Amelia walked in she looked around totally oblivious to the men in the room. Especially the man behind the counter staring at her before getting back to his work.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." The mystery man asked, bringing Amelia's attention.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asked the man.

"I prefer to text." He answered.

"Sorry, it's in my coat." Mike replied.

"You can use mine." Amelia said, taking her phone out of her pocket of her jeans.

She was about to give it to the mystery man before her phone started ringing.

"Sorry." She said, giving him an apologetic expression.

"No problem." He said.

"Um, I'll be back." She said, looking at the name that popped up on the screen before leaving the room.

_Amelia POV_

I closed the door before answering the phone.

"What do you want, Jen?" I asked.

"You still have your things here little sister, I want them out." She said, sounding annoyed.

"Well, I'm sorry. It's not easy finding a flat with a low budget. May I remind you that I'm the one paying the medical bills." I said angrily before hanging up and walking back into the rooms.

_End of Amelia POV_

"Here, use mine." John said, taking out his phone.

"Thank you." The man said, walking over to grab the phone.

"This is my old friend, John Watson, and a recent friend, Amelia Jones." Mike said.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked as he took John's phone.

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked again as Amelia walked back into the room.

"Afghanistan." John answered as a woman walked in with a cup of coffee. "How'd you know?"

"Ah Molly, coffee, thank you. What happened to the lipstick?" He said as Molly handed him a mug.

"It wasn't working for me." Molly replied.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement, your mouth's too small now." He responded.

"Aren't you charming." Amelia mumbled under her breath.

"Okay." Molly said before leaving.

"How do you feel about the violin?" The man asked after taking a sip of his coffee.

"Sorry, what?" Amelia asked.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you two? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He replied.

"You told him about me?" John asked Mike.

"Not a word." Mike replied.

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" Amelia questioned.

"I did." The man responded, putting on his coat and scarf. "Told Mike this morning that I must be difficult man to find flatmates for. Now here they are, one of them clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. The girl just wants to move out, away from her sister."

"How'd you know about Afghanistan?" John asked.

"And my sister?" Amelia asked.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in Central London. The three of us together ought to be able to afford it. We'll all meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00." He said. "Sorry, got to dash. I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

"Is that it?" Amelia asked.

"Is that what?" He responded.

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?" She replied.

"Problem?" He questioned.

"We don't know a thing about each other. John and I don't know where we're meeting, and I don't even know your name." Amelia answered.

"I know that John is an army doctor and you've been invalid home from Afghanistan. I know he has a brother who's worried about him but he won't go to him for help because he doesn't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know John's therapist thinks that his limp's psychosomatic-quite correctly I'm afraid." He said, looking John up and down.

"I also know that you have a sister but no parents, and you don't like her very much, that's why you've been saving up for a flat. By the bags under your eyes, you have nightmares and don't get much sleep. You're also clumsy and very sarcastic." He continued, looking straight into Amelia's eyes. "That's enough to go on, don't you think?"

"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." Sherlock winked at Amelia.

"Afternoon." He said to Mike before leaving.

"Yeah, he's always like that." Mike said to John.

"Showoff." Amelia commented.

"I have to go." Amelia said as she took out a piece of paper and writing on it before giving it to John. "Here's my number. See ya."

"Bye." John said as Amelia walked out the door.

Amelia got back to her sister's after working and popped down on the couch.

"That was very rude of you to hang up on me like that, Freak." Her sister said as she walked into the room.

"I was busy. You called at a bad time." Amelia replied.

"Whatever. I need you out of this house, Amelia." Jen responded.

"Can you give me time?" Amelia asked

"I can give you three days, Amelia. And I've been thinking, you've been saying it's hard getting a flat, so I'll be nice and give you half of the inheritance from mum." Jen said.

Amelia sat up, "Really?"

"Yes really." Jen rolled her eyes before pulling out a check. "It's 5 million pounds. So use it wisely."

"Thank you." Amelia said as Jen handed her the check.

"Whatever, Freak." Jen replied.


	2. Chapter 2

_Amelia POV_

I woke up at three in the morning due to another nightmare. How Sherlock knew that, I had no idea. I usually cover up the dark marks under my eyes with makeup. I showered and dressed into a pair of jeans and into a plain black t-shirt. Tonight I'll be meeting John and Sherlock at the flat. Luckily my shift at the restaurant ends at six. When I was done, I put on make up before heading to the kitchen to eat breakfast. When I was done it was 5:30.

"Good morning, Freak." I heard.

"Morning." I replied as I washed my cereal bowl.

"Do you have work today?" Jen asked.

"Yeah, then I'm going to go look at a flat. I might not come back tonight." I answered.

"That was quick." Jen commented as she started to make coffee.

"Well, last night I met a few people who was looking for a flatmate. We are meeting tonight." I said.

"So you'll be out by tomorrow?" She asked.

"Possibly." I answered as I turned off the faucet.

"Great." Jen said, taking a sip of her coffee.

I rolled my eyes as I packed some night clothes and some clothes for tomorrow.

"I'm gone." I exclaimed as put on my coast and left the house.

After hours of serving food and dealing with rude customers I was finally at the end of my shift. I was walking down the sidewalk to 221B Baker Street. I was at a stoplight waiting for the light to tell me to walk when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I tuned my head to see John.

"Hi John." I smiled.

"Hello, are heading over to the flat?" John asked.

I nodded.

"Great, we can walk together then." He continued.

"Sure." I replied as the light turned green.

We walked for another few minutes until we finally got to 221B Baker Street. As John knocked on the door I saw Sherlock get out of a taxi.

"Hello." Sherlock greeted us as he payed the cabbie driver.

"Mr. Holmes." John greeted back.

"Sherlock, please." He said as he shook our hands.

"This is a prime spot, must be expensive." John commented.

"The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, gave me a special deal. She owes me a favor. A few years back her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out." Sherlock replied.

"So you stopped her husband from being executed?" I asked.

"Oh no, I ensured it." He smirked at me before the door opened.

"Sherlock." A older woman greeted as she hugged Sherlock.

"Mrs. Hudson, this is Amelia Jones and Dr. John Watson." He said.

"Welcome!" Mrs. Hudson said as she hugged me before letting me walk inside.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked as we all went inside and up a staircase.

With John behind me, we walked up the stairs and to a door. Sherlock smiled at us, obvioulsy forced, before opening the door and letting us inside.

"Well, this could be very nice." Jon commented.

I smiled as I looked around, setting my backpack down next to a chair. There were boxes around with stuff inside like pillows and books.

"Yes, that's why I went ahead and moved in." Sherlock said.

"After we clean out all these boxes." John said at the same time.

"Well, obviously I can straighten things up a bit." Sherlock replied as he moved some papers and items.

"Is that a real skull?" I asked, walking up to where it was sitting and staring into the eye sockets.

"Indeed. It used to be a friend of mine. And when I say friend..." Sherlock replied.

"Amelia, Dr. Watson, what do you think? There is a bedroom down the hall and upstairs if you'll be needing three bedrooms." Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Why wouldn't we be needing three bedrooms?" John asked.

"Oh, don't worry, there's all sorts around here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones." Mrs. Hudson replied.

I had to hide my smile behind my hand to keep myself from laughing.

"Oh, Sherlock, the mess you've made." Mrs. Hudson said when she walked into the kitchen.

"I looked you up on the internet last night." John said to Sherlock after he sat down.

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked.

"Found your website, Science of Deduction." John replied.

"What did you think?" Sherlock questioned.

"You said you can identify a software designer by his tie and an airplane pilot by his left thumb." John criticized.

"Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits by your mobile phone." Sherlock responded.

"How?" John asked.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street." Mrs. Hudson asked, walking into the room with a newspaper. "Three exactly the same."

"Four. There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time." He replied, looking out the window.

I walked over to where he was and stood on my toes to look over his shoulder and outside the window to see a police car.

"A fourth?" Mrs. Hudson questioned as I heard footsteps walking up the stairs.

I turned around to see a man walk into the room. I could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong.

"Where?" Sherlock asked him as he stepped around me.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." The man answered.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different." Sherlock responded.

"You know how they never leave notes? This one did." He replied. "Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked.

"Anderson." He answered.

"Anderson won't work with me." Sherlock said.

"He won't be your assistant."

"I need an assistant."

"Will you come?" The man asked again.

"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind." Sherlock answered.

"Thank you." He bowed before leaving.

Sherlock waited until he heard the door open and close before jumping in happiness.

"Brilliant! Four serial suicides and now a note. Oh, It's Christmas." Sherlock exclaimed before grabbing his coat. "Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson replied as I sat down in the chair across from John.

"Something cold would do. John, Amelia, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up." He said before leaving.

"Look at him dashing about. My husband was just the same, but you're more of the sitting down type, I can tell. But you Amelia, I bet you go mad if you sit down for too long." Mrs. Hudson smiled. "I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" John exclaimed, startling Mrs. Hudson. "Sorry, I am so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing..." John apologized.

"I understand, dear, I got a hip." Mrs. Hudson replied.

"Cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." John said, grabbing the newspaper.

"Just this once, dear, I'm not your housekeeper." She responded.

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got them." John continued.

"Not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson repeated as the door opened.

I looked over to see Sherlock in the doorway.

"You're a doctor." He said, startling John. "In fact, you're an army doctor."

"Yes." John replied as he stood up.

"Any good?" Sherlock asked him.

"Very good." John replied.

"Seen a lot of injuries then? Violent deaths?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes."

"A bit of trouble too, then?"

"Yes. Enough for a lifetime, far too much."

"Want to see some more then?"

"Oh god yes." John answered.

"Great. Amelia?" Sherlock replied.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You're in my chair." He said, walking over to me.

"Well, it's very comfy." I replied.

"When I say it's my chair that means get off of it." Sherlock responded.

"What are you gonna do about it?" I asked.

I looked in his eyes to see mischief in them. I saw him smirk before I was tossed over his shoulders.

"Hey! Put me down!" I exclaimed as Sherlock grabbed my coat.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I'll skip the tea." John said.

I was punching his back before we went down the stairs.

"Ugh. That did not feel good." I commented as Sherlock put me back on my feet at the bottom of the staircase.

"All of you?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Impossible suicides, four of them. There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" Sherlock exclaimed before kissing her cheeks.

"Look at you, all happy, it's not decent." Mrs. Hudson replied.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!" Sherlock said before grabbing my wrist and walking out the door.

"Taxi!" He yelled before a cab pulled up.

He went in first before I did and John sat on the other side of me.

"You have questions?" Sherlock asked after minutes of silence.

"Yeah, where are we going?" John asked.

"Crime scene. Next?" Sherlock replied.

"Who are you? What do you do?" John continued.

"What do you think?" Sherlock responded.

"I'd say private detective..." John said.

"But?" Sherlock replied.

"Police don't go to private detectives." I continued.

"I'm a consulting detective," Sherlock smirked, "Only one in the world. I invented the job."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me." Sherlock answered.

"The police don't consult amateurs." John said.

"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said Afghanistan or Iraq, you looked surprised." Sherlock said.

"Yes, how did you know?" John questioned.

"I didn't know, I saw." Sherlock replied. "Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. And your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Barts, so army doctor, obvious. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic, wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan, Afghanistan or Iraq."

"You said I had a therapist." John said.

"You've got a psychosomatic limp. Of course you have a therapist. Then there's your brother. Your phone." Sherlock replied, holding his hand out across me before John handed him his phone. "It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player. And you're looking for a flatshare. You wouldn't waste money on this; it's a gift, then. Scratches-not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The current owner wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You already know it."

"The engraving?" John questioned.

"Harry Watson. Clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father. This is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now Clara, who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently. This model is only six months old. Marriage in trouble, then. Six months on, he's just given it away. If she'd left him then he would have kept it. People do, sentiment. No, he waned rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you. That says he want's you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help. That says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his drinking." Sherlock continued.

"How could you possibly know about the drinking?" John asked.

"Shot in the dark." Sherlock replied. "Good one, though. Power connection. Tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge, but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you go, you were right." Sherlock finished.

"I was right? Right about what?" John asked.

"The police don't consult amateurs." Sherlock replied.

"What about Amelia? How could you tell the things about her?" John asked.

"When someone called her phone it said 'Jen'. Obviously it wouldn't be her mother. Amelia, you shoulders shrunk, you weren't happy with that person calling. I assumed sister. You would be living with your parents if you weren't looking for a flat so you're unhappily living with your sister. You're clothes are a few years old, saving up for a flat. I know you're clumsy because of the holes in your jeans. They aren't pre-ripped. So you fall a lot. I could tell that you're sarcastic by the comment you made in the lab." He said.

"Aren't you charming." I said in the same tone as yesterday.

"That was amazing." John commented.

"Do you think so?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course it was." John responded.

"I think it was quite impressive." I said.

"That's not what people normally say." Sherlock commented.

"What do they normally say?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Piss off." He answered, looking at me.


	3. Chapter 3

_Amelia POV_

A few minutes later we arrived at the crime scene.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked after we got out of the cab.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago. They're getting a divorce. Harry is a drinker." John replied.

"Spot on, then. I didn't expect to get everything right." Sherlock said.

"Harry is short for Harriet." John continued.

"Harriet's your sister." Sherlock said as he stopped.

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to do here?" John asked.

"Sister!" Sherlock exclaimed as he started walking again.

"No, seriously, what am I doing here?"

"There's always something." He said.

"Hello, Freak." I heard a woman say.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock told her.

"Why?"

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look." Sherlock answered.

"Well you know what I think, don't you?" The woman replied.

"Always, Sally." He said before going under the police tape and inhaling through his nose. "You know you didn't make it home last night."

"Uh, who are these people?" Sally asked as John and I walked up.

"Colleagues of mine. Dr. Watson and Amelia Jones." Sherlock answered. "Dr. Watson, Amelia, this is Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend."

"Colleagues? How do you manage to get a colleague?" Sally asked. "Did he follow you home?"

"Would it be better if we waited?" I asked.

"No." Sherlock answered immediately before pulling up the tape and grabbing my wrist before pulling me through.

"Freak's here. Bringing him in." Sally said in her police radio as we followed her.

"Ah, Anderson." Sherlock said as a man in a blue suit walked up to us, "Here we are again."

"This is a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" Anderson replied.

"Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?" Sherlock responded.

"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that." Anderson said.

"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock replied.

"My deodorant?" Anderson looked confused.

"It's for men." Sherlock commented.

"Well, of course it's for men. I'm wearing it!" Anderson exclaimed.

"So's Sargeant Donovan." Sherlock replied before inhaling again, "Ooh, I think it just vaporized. May I go in?"

"Now, look, whatever you're trying to imply..." Anderson started.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." Sherlock interrupted before smirking and walking into the house.

I wasn't able to hide my laughter as John and I walked in after him.

"You should wear one of these." Sherlock said as we walked into a room with a table with the blue suits like Anderson's on it.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked while putting one on himself.

"They're with me." Sherlock answered as John and I started to put on the suits.

"But who are they?" Lestrade asked again.

"I said they're with me." Sherlock insisted.

"Aren't you gonna put one on?" John asked Sherlock.

He was answered with silence.

"So where are we?" Sherlock asked Lestrade.

"Upstairs." He replied.

"I can give you two minutes." Lestrade told Sherlock as we walked up the stairs.

"May need longer." Sherlock answered.

"Her name is Jennifer Wilson, according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. A couple of kids found her." Lestrade told us before we were silent the rest of the way up.

When we were in the room with the dead body we were quiet.

"Shut up." Sherlock said to Lestrade after a moment in silence.

"I didn't say anything." He replied.

"You were thinking. It's annoying." Sherlock responded before walking up to the woman.

He was silent while examining her and you can practically see the gears in his head turning.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked after a few minutes.

"Not much." He replied.

"She's German." Anderson said as he leaned against the door frame.

"Rache. German for 'revenge.'" He continued as we looked for him. "She could be trying to tell us something."

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sherlock said while looking at his phone and shutting the door in Anderson's face.

"So she's German?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course she's not. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff. So far, so obvious." Sherlock responded.

"Sorry? Obvious?" John asked.

"What about the message, though? Lestrade asked.

"Amelia, Dr. Watson, what do you think?" Sherlock asked.

"Of the message?" John asked as I sat by the body.

"Of the body. You're a medical man." Sherlock said to John.

"Well, no, we have a whole team outside." Lestrade interrupted.

"They won't work with me." Sherlock replied.

"I'm breaking rules to let you on here." Lestrade said.

"Yes, because you need me." Sherlock responded.

"Yes, I do. God help me." Lestrade replied.

"Dr. Watson." Sherlock said.

"Do as he says, help yourself." Lestrade said to John.

"Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes." He said as he walked outside of the room.

"Well?" Sherlock asked.

What am I doing here?" John questioned.

"Helping me make a point." Sherlock whispered.

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent." John replied.

"Well, this is more fun." Sherlock responded.

"Fun? There's a woman lying dead." John said.

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper." Sherlock replied.

"She had a suitcase with her." I whispered as I looked at her tights.

Sherlock smirked at me. "That's more like it." He said before Lestrade walked in.

John then started looking at her.

"Asphyxiation, probably." John said after looking at her. "Passed out and choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. Could have been a seizure, possibly drugs."

"You know what it was, you've read the papers." Sherlock said.

"Well, she's one of the suicides- the fourth." John replied.

"Sherlock, two minutes, I said. I need anything you got." Lestrade said.

"Victim's in her late 30s. Professional person, going by her clothes. I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. That's obvious by the size of her suitcase." Sherlock replied.

"Suitcase?" Lestrade questioned.

"Suitcase, yes. She's been married for at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers, but none of them knew she was married." Sherlock responded.

"For God's sake, if you're just making this up..." Lestrade started.

"Her wedding ring, at least ten years old. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage, right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside. That means its regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what, or rather who, does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them, simple." Sherlock finished.

"It's brilliant." John exclaimed. "Sorry."

"Cardiff?" Lestrade questioned.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's not obvious to me." John said.

"Me either." I said.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." Sherlock replied, "Her coat. It's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London during that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left hand pocket, but it's dry and unused. Not just wind, strong wind, too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that we were intending to stay overnight so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So," He said taking out his phone and scrolling through it, "where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff."

"Fantastic." John said.

"Do you know you do that out loud?" Sherlock asked him.

"Sorry, I'll shut up." John replied.

"No, it's fine." Sherlock responded.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes, where is it?" Sherlock questioned, looking around the room. "She must have had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is."

"So she was writing 'Rachel'?" Lestrade asked.

"No, she was writing an angry note in German." Sherlock said sarcastically, "Of course she was writing 'Rachel'! No other word it can be. Question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"How do you know she had a suitcase?" Lestrade asked.

"Amelia, do you mind?" Sherlock asked me before bending down to look at the woman again.

"There's splash marks on the back of her right leg, but not on her left. It's obvious she had a wheeled suitcase. A small one, too, going by the spread." I replied. "Used to have the same marks a lot when I was younger."

"So where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock asked.

"There wasn't a case." He answered.

"Say that again." Sherlock said, slowly looking up at Lestrade.

"There wasn't a case." Lestrade repeated. "There was never any suitcase."

Sherlock stood up before walking out of the room, "Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

"Sherlock, there's no case." Lestrade said, walking out of the room and John and I followed.

"They take the poison themselves. They chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock replied, walking down the stairs.

"Yeah, right, thanks,... and?" Lestrade replied.

"It's murder. All of them. I don't know how. They're not suicides, they're killings, serial killings." Sherlock answered, looking up at us. "We've got ourselves a serial killer. Love those. There's always something to look forward to."

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade questioned.

"Her case!" Sherlock yelled. "Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Someone else was here and took her case. So the killer must have driven her here, forgot the case was in the car."

"She could have checked into a hotel and left her case there." John said.

"No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She color coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She's never have left any hotel with her hair still looking..." Sherlock stopped waving his hands and looked forward, "Oh."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Serial killers, always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake." Sherlock said to himself.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade yelled.

"Oh, we're done waiting. Look at her, really look. Houston, we have a mistake. Get onto Cardiff. Find our who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel." Sherlock said before continuing down the stairs.

"Of course, yeah, but what mistake?" Lestrade asked.

"Pink!"

After leaving the house I didn't see Sherlock anywhere.

"He's gone." Sally said.

"Sherlock Holmes?" John asked.

"Yeah, he just took off, he does that." Sally replied.

"Is he coming back?" I asked.

"Didn't look like it." Sally answered.

"Yes, sorry, where are we?" John questioned.

"Brixton."

"Do you know where we could get a cab?" John asked. "It's just... my leg."

"Try the main road." she said, lifting up the tape for us to duck under.

"Thank you." I replied.

"You aren't his friends." Sally said, "He doesn't have friends. So who are you two?"

"Nobody." John answered. "We just met him."

"A little advise then. Stay away from that guy." She replied.

"Why?" I asked.

"You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one that put it there."

"And why would he do that?" John questioned.

"Because he's a psychopath." Sally answered. "Psychopaths get bored."

Lestrade called for here and she left us to our thoughts. I hooked my arm through Johns as we started to walk away. We stopped when the phone booth next to us started to ring. John ignored it and pulled me along with him. Once we got to the main road we tried calling for a cab, but they all drove on by. Then another phone booth rang.

"Should we answer it?" I asked.

"Alright." John replied before stepping into the phone booth.

A moment later a car pulled up to the curb in front of the phone booth and a man got out of the passenger seat and opened the back door.

"What's happening?" I asked as John got out.

"This is going to be our ride for the night." John replied before he got in and I got in behind him.

I stared out the window while John attempted to make a conversation with the girl beside him.

"What's your name then?"

"Uh, Anthea." 'Anthea' answered.

"That's not your real name, is it?" John questioned.

"No."

"I'm John."

"Yes, I know." 'Anthea' replied.

"Any point in asking where we are going?" John asked.

"None at all... John."

We arrived in an empty building. When John and I got out of the car we saw a man in a suit with an umbrella.

"By the way, I think the name Elizabeth suits you more." I said.

"Really?" She smiled at me.

"Yeah." I replied before following John over to the Umbrella man.

"Have a seat, John." He said pointing at the lone chair with his umbrella.

"No thank you." John replied.

"Amelia?"

"No thanks."

"You know, I have a phone. We both do. Very clever and all that, but, uh, you could just phone me, or Amelia." John said.

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes one learns to be discreet, hence this place. The leg must be hurting you. Sit down." The man said.

"I don't want to sit down." John responded.

"You don't seem to be very afraid, neither of you." The umbrella man said.

"Well, you don't seem very frightening." I replied.

Umbrella man laughed before continuing, "What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes."

"Someone seems a bit obsessed." I whispered.

"I don't have one. I barely know him. We met him yesterday." John answered.

"Since yesterday you've both moved with him and now you're solving crimes together." He replied.

"Who are you?" John asked.

"An interested party." Umbrella man answered.

"Interested in Sherlock, why?" I asked. "I'm guessing you're not friends."

"You've met him. How many friends do you imagine he has?" Umbrella man responded.

"Depends. People or inanimate objects?" I asked.

He smiled before continuing, "I'm the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having."

"And what's that?" John asked.

"An enemy."

"An enemy?" I questioned.

"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his archenemy." Umbrella man replied. "He does love to be dramatic."

"Amen to that." I said.

"Well, thank God you're above all that." John said.

My phone beeped and I took it out of my pocket.

_Baker Street._

_Come at once_

_if convenient._

_SH._

I showed the text to John before Umbrella man spoke.

"I hop I'm not distracting you."

"Not distracting me at all." John responded.

"Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?" He asked.

"Yes." I replied immediately.

He then turned to John.

"I don't think it's any of your business." John replied.

"It could be."

"It really couldn't."

"If you do move into 221B Baker Street, I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." Umbrella man said.

"What's the catch?" I asked.

"Give me information. Nothing discreet, nothing you'd feel uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to." He answered.

"Why?" John asked.

"I worry about him, constantly."

"What are you, his brother?" I asked.

He gave me a look before continuing, "I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a difficult relationship."

"Not his brother, ex-boyfriend." I whispered to myself before my phone rang again.

_If inconvenient,_

_come anyway._

_SH_

I once again showed John before turning to Umbrella man.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"I assumed so. John, how about you?" He turned to John.

"No."

"You're very loyal very quickly." Umbrella man said.

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested." John replied.

Umbrella man frowned before taking a book out of his coat pocket.

"'Trust issues.' It says here. For both of you."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Could it be that you decided to trust Sherlock Holmes out of all people?" Umbrella man asked, looking through his book.

"Who says I trust him?" John asked.

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily." He said.

"Are we done?" I asked.

"You tell me." Umbrella man replied.

John looked at him for a moment before looping his arm through mine and we walked back towards the car. Once I got in I had another text from Sherlock.

_Could be dangerous_

_SH_

I showed John and he sighed.

"Address?" Anthea asked.

"221B Baker Street, but I have to stop somewhere first." John answered.

Then I remembered I had something else to do today.

"So do I." I said.

When I was a street away from the hospital I had the car stopped.

"I'll see you at the flat later, John. Bye Elizabeth." I smile before leaving.

"Oh, Amelia, I didn't think you'd come today." The nurse for my dad's floor smiled.

"I didn't think so either. It's been a wild few days." I replied before walking into my dad's room.

"Hey, dad." I sighed, looking at his still form, clinging to life from breathing tubes.

"I have exciting news. I finally found a flat, and some flat mates." I said, sitting in the chair beside his bed.

"Sherlock Holmes. He calls himself a 'consulting detective' whatever that means. He's smart, but oh so dramatic. And John Watson. He's an army doctor who fought in Afghanistan. He's nicer than Sherlock. Today we were picked up by a car and brought us to Umbrella man. At least, that's what I call him. He asked us to spy on Sherlock for money. He told us he is concerned for him and they have a difficult relationship. I thought he was his brother at first, now I'm guessing ex-boyfriend with attachment issues." I sighed and sat back.

After a few minutes of sitting there, I stood up and kissed my father's forehead, "See you tomorrow, daddy."

I left the hospital and tried to get a cab. One showed up right away and I got in.

"221B Baker Street, please." I said.

The cabbie didn't reply. He drove down the street. I looked out the window. A few minutes later I knocked on the window that separated the customer from the driver.

"Excuse me, you just past Baker Street." I said.

I then looked at the door when I heard the click of the lock on the door.

"Let me out!" I yelled, pulling on the handle.

I growled in frustration and sat back. I then grabbed my phone from my pocket, but noticed it wouldn't turn on.

"Dammit." I yelled, kicking the door.

"Where are you taking me!?" I yelled.

He still didn't answer as he continued to drive before we finally stopped. He got out of the car and opened the door next to me and he had a syringe in his hand.

"Get away from me!" I yelled.

"It will all be over sooner if you stop struggling." He said, punching me in the temple before holding me down and put the needle into my arm.

I mumble some incoherent words before blacking out.

I woke up what seemed like days later with one arm handcuffed to a desk in a room full of desks.

"Good evening, sleepy 'ead." The man smiled.

I looked around me and saw a small bottle with some white with red speckled pills in it.

I gasped, "You're the one that killed those people!"

"I didn't kill 'em. I convinced 'em to kill themselves. And I'm gonna do the same to you." He replied.

"You don't know me." I responded.

"Don't I? You're Amelia Lilian Jones. I know almost everything about you." He replied.

"You killed your mother and put your dad in a coma. They've been like that since you were twelve, when they drove off that bridge. You were saved and so was your dad. But it was too 'ate for your mum. Your dad was dead for several minutes before they revived 'im and put 'im into a coma. They don't think he will ever wake up. And it was all your fault."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked with tears in my eyes.

"So it's working? Good. You were adopted, so your mum and sister treated you differently. After her death people 'ated you, your mum was the nicest person they've met. You tried to kill yourself many times and each time you failed they called you an attention seeker. You are an unloved child, is that why you killed 'em?"

"It wasn't my fault!" I yelled, tears now rolling down my cheeks.

"Everyone would be better off without you." He said before leaving.

I sobbed into my knees and looked at the pills next to me and grabbed the bottle.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sherlock POV_

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." I waved my hand at Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, dear, they're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" Mrs. Hudson said.

I rubbed my temples, trying to tune out the noise of the people in the flat.

"It's a drug's bust, Mrs. Hudson." John replied.

"But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers." Mrs. Hudson responded.

"Shut up, everybody, shut up!" I yelled. "Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."

"What? My face is?" Anderson asked.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade ordered.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Anderson complained.

"Your back, now, please!" Lestrade yelled at him.

"Come on, think, quick!" I told at myself.

"What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Mrs. Hudson!" I yelled and she ran down the stair and that's when I the light bulb turn on.

"Oh. Ah! She was clever, clever, yes. She's cleverer than you lot, and she's dead! Do you see, do you get it?" I stared at their blank faces, "Oh where is Amelia when you need her, she could at least get it."

"She should have been back by now." John frowned and looked at his phone.

"She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him. When she got out of the car she knew that she was going to her death. She left her phone in order to lead us to her killer." I continued.

"But how?" Lestrade asked.

"What... what do you mean how? Rachel!" They still gave me blank looks.

"Don't you see? Rachel!" Still with the look, "Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be relaxing. Rachel is not a name."

"Then what is it?" John asked.

"John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address." I pointed at the pink case before sitting down and turning on my laptop.

"Jenny dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk." John said.

"I've been too slow. She didn't have a laptop," I said while typing the address, "Which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smart phone that's e-mail enabled, so there was a website for her account. The user name is her e-mail address and, all together now, the password is...?"

"Rachel." John answered.

"So we can read her e-mail? So what?" Anderson asked.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do much more than read her e-mails. It's a smart phone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us straight to the man who killed her." I replied.

"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade said.

"We know he didn't." John informed him.

"Come on, come on, quickly!" I yelled at my laptop.

"Sherlock, dear, this taxi driver..." I stood up and walked over to her.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" I asked, buttoning my jacket, before walking to Lestrade.

"Get vehicles, get helicopters, we got to move fast, this phone battery won't last forever." I said to him.

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name." Lestrade said.

"It's a start." I replied. "narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead we've had."

"Sherlock?" John questioned.

"Where is it, quickly, where?" I asked, walking over to the laptop.

"Here, it's in 221B Baker Street."

"How can it be here?" I asked myself. "How?"

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere." Lestrade offered.

"What? And I didn't notice it? Me?" I asked as I heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back." John said.

_Who do we trust even if we don't know them?_

_Who passes unnoticed wherever they go?_

_Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?_

My phone alarmed me that I had a text.

_Come with me._

I looked toward the stairs and saw a man walking away from the flat.

"Sherlock are you okay?" John asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." I answered.

"So how can the phone be here?" John asked.

"I don't know." I replied.

"I'll try it again." John said.

"Good idea." I responded before walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" John questioned.

"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long." I answered.

I walked out side after putting on my coat and saw an older man leaning on the side of a taxi.

"Taxi for Sherlock 'Olmes." He said.

"I didn't order a taxi." I said, putting my hands in my pockets.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one." He replied.

"You're the cabbie... the one who stopped outside Northumberland Street. It was you, not your passenger." I said.

"No one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer." He responded.

"Is this a confession?" I asked, taking a few more steps closer to him.

"Yeah, and I'll tell you what else. If you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise." The cabbie answered.

"Why?" I asked, frowning.

"'Cause you aren't gonna do that." He replied.

"Am I not?" I asked.

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. 'Olmes. I spoke to 'em and they killed themselves. An' if you get the coppers now, I will promise you one thing" He leaned forward, "I will never tell you what I said."

We kept eye contact for a moment before the cabbie started to walk to the driver's car door.

"No one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result." I said and he stopped and turned back toward me.

"And you will never understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?" He asked.

He got into the cab and I walked over to the window, "If I wanted to understand, what would I do?"

"Let me take you for a ride." He answered.

"So you can kill me, too?" I questioned.

"I don't want to kill you, Mr. 'Olmes. I'm gonna talk to ya. Just like I talked to that friend of yours, Amelia. Then you're gonna kill yourself."

"What did you do to Amelia?" I asked harshly.

"Don't worry, she's safe. Or dead. I talked to her, gave her a bottle of pills, and left. Why don't we go see?" He smiled.

"What did you say to her?" I asked after being in the car for a moment.

"Nothing, really. Just how it was her fault her parents were dead and all that. Did you know she tried to kill herself three times? I guess now she can get what she wanted." He answered.

_Three?_


	5. Chapter 5

_Sherlock POV_

In a few minutes we showed up at two identical buildings.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Ya know every street in London. Ya know exactly where we are." He replied.

"Roland-Kerr Further Education Collage." I said. "Why here?"

"It's open. Cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie, ya always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out." He answered.

"And you just walk your victims in? How?" I questioned.

"Oh, dull." I said when he pointed a gun at me.

"Don't worry, it gets better."

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint." I replied.

"I don't. It's much better than that." He said before lowering the gun, "I don't need this with ya, 'cause I have that pretty girl." He said before walking toward the building on the right.

I followed him to a dark room. When the lights were turned on I saw Amelia handcuffed to a desk with a small, empty bottle in her free hand. She had an obvious tear trail down her cheeks and there was some blood on her forehead. Her eyes were closed and I couldn't tell if she was sleeping or not.

"Amelia." I said, shaking her shoulders.

"Mmm, Sherlock?" She asked, opening her eyes.

I sighed in relief and grabbed the empty bottle from her hand, "Where are the pills?"

"I don't know. I threw them across the room." She replied.

"Where is the key?" I asked, turning to the cabbie.

He took it out of his pocket and set it down on one of the tables. I stood up and went to grab it and he sat down and put his hand over it.

"Ah, ah, ah, Sherlock. First we talk, and if ya survive, ya can take the key." He smiled.

I sighed before sitting down across from him.

"Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eye of about a half dozen policemen." I looked over at Amelia who sitting there quietly. "They're not that stupid. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you."

"Ya call that a risk? Nah. This is a risk." He replied, reaching into his pocket and putting a small jar, just like the one Amelia had, onto the table with a pill inside it. "Oh, I like this bit, because ya don't get it, do ya? But you're about to. I just have to do this." He said before taking out another one and putting it on the table, "Weren't expecting that, were ya? Oh, you're going to love this."

"Love what?" I asked.

"Sherlock Holmes, look at ya. Here in the flesh. That website of yours, your fan told me about it."

"My fan?" I questioned.

"Ya are brilliant. You are a proper genius. 'The Science of Deduction' now, that is proper thinking. Between ya and me sitting here, why can't people think? Don't it make ya mad? Why can't people just think?" He said.

"Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius, too."

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man driving a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are, it'll be the last thing ya ever know." He replied.

"Okay, two bottles. Explain." I demanded.

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. Ya take the pill from the good bottle, you'll live. Take the pill from the bad bottle, ya die." He explained.

"Why didn't I get a chance to choose?" Amelia asked.

"Ya did. Take it or not. Those were your choices." The cabbie replied.

"Both bottle of course are identical." I commented.

"In every way."

"And do you know which is which?" I asked him.

"Of course I know."

"But I don't."

"Wouldn't be a game of ya knew." He replied. "You're the one who chooses."

"Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?" I questioned.

"I 'aven't told ya the best bit yet. Whatever bottle ya choose, I take the pill form the other one. And then together, we take our medicine. I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill ya don't. Didn't expect that, did ya, Mr. 'Olmes?" He answered.

"This is what you did with the rest of them? You gave them a choice?" I asked.

"And now I'm giving ya one." He said. "Take your time. Get yourself together. I want your best game."

"It's not a game, it's chance."

"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr. 'Olmes, it's chess. It's a game of chess. With one move and one survivor. And this, this is the move." He took the bottle on the right and moved it toward me, "Did I just give ya the good bottle or the bad bottle. Ya can choose either one."

I looked over at Amelia and I could tell she was nervous. Either way someone will die here tonight. Me or the cabbie.

"Ready yet, Mr. 'Olmes?" The cabbie asked after a few minutes of silence. "Ready to play?"

"Play what?" I asked. "It's a 50-50 chance."

"Ya not playing the numbers, you're playing me. Did I give ya the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff, or a double bluff, or a triple bluff?"

"It's just chance." I said.

"Four people in a row? It's not chance."

"Luck."

"It's genius. I know how people think. I know how people think I think. I can see it all like a map in my head. Everyone's so stupid, even ya. Or maybe God just loves me." The cabbie said.

"What goes around comes around." Amelia muttered.

I sat forward and put my hands on the table, "Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie. So... you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?"

"Time to play." He replied.

"Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. There are traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own. There's no one to tell you. But there's photograph of children and the children's mother has been cut from the picture. If she'd died she'd still be there. The photograph's old, but the frame's new. You think of your children, but you don't get to see them. Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them, and it still hurts. Ah, but there's more. Your clothes, recently laundered, but everything you're wearing is at least three years old. Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?"

"Ah." I said after a few seconds, "Three years ago. Is that when they told you?"

"Told me what?" He replied.

"That you're a dead man walking." I answered.

"So are ya."

"You don't have long, though. Am I right?" I asked.

"Aneurism, right here." The cabbie replied, pointing to his head. "Any breath could be my last."

"And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people."

"I outlived four people. That's the most fun ya can have with an Aneurism." He replied.

"No. No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is much more vicious motivator. Somehow, this is about your children." I said.

"Oh. You are good, aren't ya?" The cabbie responded.

"But how?" I asked.

"When I die they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot money; I'm driving cabs." He said.

"Or a serial killer."

"You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me." I said.

"I have a sponsor." The cabbie replied.

"You have a what?" I asked.

"For every life I take, money goes to my kids." He explained. "The more I kill, the better off they'll be. Ya see? Nicer than ya think."

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" I questioned.

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock 'Olmes?" He responded. "You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like ya, except you're just a man. And they're so much more than that."

"What do you mean, more than a man?" I asked. "An organization? What?"

"There's a name no one says. And I'm not gonna say it, either. Now, enough chatter. Time to choose." The cabbie said.

"What if I don't choose either?" I asked. "I could just walk out of here with Amelia."

He sighed again, taking out the gun, but this time pointing it at Amelia's head.

"You can take a 50-50 chance, or I can shoot 'er in the head." He answered.

Amelia's eyes widened slightly as she stared at the gun.

"I'll choose the gun, please." I said.

"Sherlock!" Amelia yelled.

"Are ya sure?"

"No, he's not!" Amelia exclaimed.

"Definitely." I replied, winking at Amelia. "The gun."

"Ya don't want to phone a friend?" He asked.

"The gun." I said once more.

He pulled the trigger and only a little flame came out. Amelia let out a sigh of relief.

"I know a real gun when I see one." I said.

"None of the others did." The cabbie commented.

"Clearly." I replied. "Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case."

I stood up and grabbed the key before walking over to Amelia and unlocking the handcuff around her wrist.

"Just before ya go, did you figure it out?" The cabbie asked. "Which one's the good bottle?"

"Of course." I answered. "Child's play."

"Well, which one, then?" He questioned. "Which one would ya have picked just so I know whether I could have beaten ya or not? Come on, play the game."

I helped Amelia stand up before walking back to the table and grabbing the bottle closest to the cabbie.

"Oh, interesting." He said, picking up the remaining bottle, "So, what do ya think? Shall we?"

"Really, what do ya think?" He asked, standing up. "Can ya beat me? Clever enough... to bet on your life?"

"Sherlock, don't." Amelia said.

"I bet ya get bored, don't ya? I know ya do. Man like ya, so clever." The cabbie said as I opened the bottle and put the pill in my hand. "But what's the point of being clever if ya can't prove it?" I put the pill toward the light to get a better look at it. "Still the addict. But this, this is what you're really addicted to. You'll do anything, anything at all to stop being bored." We both started to put the pill to out mouths. "You're not bored now, are ya?"

There was a gunshot and a bullet went through the cabbie's chest. I turned around and went to the window where the bullet went through, there was no one in the other room where the shooter was obviously at. I turned back to the man who was coughing and wheezing on the floor. Amelia was by the door staring at him. I grabbed my pill and leaned toward him,

"Was I right?" I asked and he didn't answer, "I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?" I threw the pill at his face. "Okay, tell me this. The sponsor, who was it? The one who told you about me, my _fan_? I want a name."

"No."

"You're dying, but there is still time to hurt you. Give. Me. A. Name." I continued.

The cabbie shook his head.

"A name!" I exclaimed as I put my foot on his bullet wound and he groaned in pain. "Now!"

"Moriarty!" He answered.

I stepped off him and walked toward Amelia, grabbing her arm and we walked out of the room. Outside there were police cars and an ambulance. Amelia and I sat in the back of the ambulance and they bandaged her forehead wound and put a blanket around my shoulders. I tried taking it off, but they kept putting it on me.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me." I asked Lestrade as he walked up to us.

"Yeah, it's for shock." He answered.

"I'm not in shock." I replied.

"Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs." Lestrade said.

"So, the shooter, no sign?" I asked.

"Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him." Lestrade answered.

"Did you see the shooter?" Lestrade asked Amelia and she shook her head.

"We've got nothing to go on."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." I replied.

"Okay, give me."

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall is from a handgun." I started, standing up, "A kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon, that's a crack shot you're looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so a strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel." I said before looking over at John.

Then it clicked.

"You know what? Ignore me."

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked.

"Ignore, all of that. It's just the... shock talking." I said before grabbing Amelia's wrist and started walking towards John.

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to talk about the man." I answered.

"I've still got questions." Lestrade said.

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock, look, I've got a blanket." I said, motioning to the orange blanket around my shoulders.

"Sherlock!"

"And I just caught you a serial killer."

"A dead one." Amelia said and I elbowed her.

"More or less."

"Okay, I'll pull you in tomorrow." Lestrade said.

Amelia and I walked away. I took the blanket and threw it into a police car and ducked under the police tape and to John.

"Sergeant Donovan's been explaining everything. Two pills. Dreadful business, isn't it? Dreadful."

"Good shot."

"Yes, yes, must have been, through the window." John replied.

"Well, you'd know." I responded. "Did you get the powder burns out of your fingers? I don't suppose you'd serve time for this but let's avoid the court case. Are you alright?" I asked Amelia.

"Besides the emotional trauma, yeah, I'm fine." She answered.

"John, are you alright?"

"Yes, of course I'm alright." John answered.

"Well, you have just killed a man."

"That's true. But he wasn't a very nice man."

"No. He wasn't, was he?"

"And frankly, a bloody awful cabbie." John said.

"That's true. He was a bad cabbie." I said as we started walking, "You should've seen the route he took us to get here." The three of us started laughing,

"Shh, we shouldn't be giggling, it's a crime scene." John said.

"You're the one who shot him." I said to John.

"Keep your voice down. Sorry, nerves I think." John said to Donovan.

We were walking, talking about getting chinese food when John interrupted me.

"Sherlock, that's him."

"The man from the warehouse? Sherlock's ex-boyfriend?" Amelia asked before John put a hand over her mouth.

"I know exactly who that is." I said.

"So another case cracked." Mycroft said as he got out of the car. "How very pubic spirited. But that's never really your motivation, is it?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you." He answered.

"Ex-boyfriend. Attachment issues." I heard Amelia whisper behind me.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your concern." I replied harshly.

"Yes, always so aggressive. Did it ever occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" He asked.

"Oddly enough, no."

"We have more in common than you'd like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish." Mycroft said. "People will suffer. And you know how much it upsets mummy."

"Brothers. I was a bit off." Amelia said.

"_I _upset her? Me? It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft."

"No, wait. Mummy? Who's mummy?" John asked.

"They're brothers, John." Emily said.

"Yep. Mycroft is my brother. Putting on weight again?" I replied.

"Losing it, in fact." Mycroft replied.

"He's your brother?" John questioned.

"Of course he's my brother." I replied.

"So he's not-"

"Not what?" I asked.

"I don't know, criminal mastermind?" John asked.

"Overly attached ex-boyfriend?" Amelia said.

"For goodness sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government." Mycroft said.

"He _is_ the British government." I corrected. "When he's not too busy being the British secret service or the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does to the traffic." I said before grabbing Amelia's wrist again and started walking away.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days were sorta peaceful. I brought all of my belongings to 221B Baker Street. I brought my bedspread and my picture and clothes. That's all I really had. I had work, thank god. Sherlock did the weirdest experiments. He had eyeballs in the microwave! I probably shouldn't be complaining too much. It's still way better than my sister's place.

Two months later I finally had a day off. I decided to sleep in. Until I heard noises coming from the sitting room. I forced myself out of bed and walked down the hall and saw Sherlock fighting a man who looked like he came from the Middle East.

"Look!" Sherlock yelled, pointing to the mirror.

The man was fooled. He looked into the mirror and Sherlock knocked him out cold.

"Really? You couldn't be any quieter?" I asked.

"No." He answered, picking up the man be under the arms and started dragging him towards the door.

"Whatever." I said as I went back into my room to change out of my pajamas and get ready for the day.

I came out just as John walked in.

"Weren't you out shopping?"

"Yes." John answered.

"Where's the food?" I asked.

"I didn't get it." He replied.

"What? Why?" Sherlock asked, looking up from his book.

"Because I had a row in the shop with a chip and pin machine." John answered.

"You had a row with a machine?" Sherlock questioned, looking up from his book.

"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse." John replied. "Have you got cash?"

"Take my card." Sherlock said, motioning to his wallet on the kitchen table.

John walked into the kitchen but turned around in the doorway,

"You could always go yourself. You know you've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left."

Sherlock gave me a knowing look and turned the page.

"What happened about that case you were offered, the Jaria diamond?" John asked as he grabbed Sherlock's debit card.

"Not interested." Sherlock closed the book and I watched him slide the sword the man from earlier had under the seat, "I sent them a message."

John rubbed at the mark in the table before sighing and leaving. I looked at the clock, 11:00. My shift at the restaurant started at noon. I walked into the bathroom and grabbed my brush. After brushing my hair and teeth I exited the room.

"I'm off." I told Sherlock as I grabbed my jacket and put it on. "Bye!"

I didn't come home till around eight.

"Hey." I greeted John when I walked into the door.

"Hello. How was work?"

"Usual. What did you two do today when I was gone?" I asked, going into the kitchen to get dinner.

"Sherlock's got a new case." John answered.

"What is it?"

"There was a message left at the bank, and one of the workers has been killed." He answered.

"Lovely. Bet it was a fun day for you." I said, taking a bite out of an apple.

John sighed, "Luckily I have a job interview tomorrow."

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"Medical clinic. You can handle Sherlock for a few hours?" He replied.

"Can't. I still have work." I answered. "Maybe we should hire a nanny, to follow him around when we're not here."

"That won't go over well with him. He'll insult the woman." John smiled.

"Well, I've got an early start tomorrow," I said, throwing the apple into the trash bin, "Good night."

"Night."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" I asked Sherlock the next morning.

He was sitting on the arm of his chair, staring at the pictures taped around the mirror.

"No."

"That the message that was left in the bank?" I questioned.

"Yes."

"Well, you're chatty today. I'll be back around six tonight." I said, grabbing my coat.

"It's eight in the morning. You work in a restaurant. What do you have to do now?" He asked, turning around and looking at me.

"None of your business. Work on your case and I'll be back in a few hours." I replied.

"When John left you alone you were kidnapped and almost killed by a cabbie."

"That was months ago. The cabbie's dead, isn't he? See you in a while." I told him before leaving.

I caught a cab and left for the hospital.

"Good morning, Amelia." The nurse greeted.

"Morning." I smiled, signing in.

I went to my dad's room and sat down in the chair I always sit in. I started talking to him about Sherlock and John and the flat. And the case, The Study in Pink, John called it. I finished and sighed,

"Love you, daddy."

I kissed his forehead and left the hospital to go to work.

* * *

It was about seven at night when I got a text from Sherlock, telling me to meet him and John at the art museum.

"Why are we here?" I asked when I met them at the steps.

"Paint." Sherlock answered.

"Paint?"

"Sherlock!"

"Look who it is." John commented as a young man ran toward us.

"I've found something you'll like." He said looking at me, "Who are you?"

"Raz, Amelia. Amelia, Raz. Let's get going." Sherlock said quickly.

"Tuesday morning, all you've got to do is turn up and say the bag was yours." John told Raz on the way to wherever we were going.

"Can we forget about your court date?" Sherlock asked.

"Court date?" I asked.

"Don't ask." Sherlock said.

We kept walking, but it felt like someone was watching me. I turned my head but I couldn't see anyone. I shrugged it of and kept up with the others. We eventually ended up at a skate park with graffiti covering it's walls.

"If you want to hide a tree, then a forest is the best place to do it, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock asked. "People would just walk straight past not knowing, unable to decipher the message."

"There." Raz pointed. "I spotted it earlier."

Around that section of wall was the same yellow paint I saw in the pictures back at our flat.

"And that's the exact same paint?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah." Raz answered.

"If we're going to decipher this code, we're going to need to look for more evidence." Sherlock said.

We all split up to search that area for anymore codes. I was walking down the train tracks, my flash light pointed at te ground. I saw a trail of yellow paint, a lot like the one in the pictures. I followed it and there was a wall, covered in the codes.

* * *

"I've been calling you two." I said when I found John and Sherlock by a train cart. "I found it."

The three of us ran back to the wall where I found the codes. Difference is, the paint is gone.

"It's been painted over." I said, walking to the wall and putting my hand on it, the paint was dry. "It was here. Ten minutes ago I saw it."

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it." Sherlock said.

I then felt Sherlock's hands on th side of my head, "Sherlock, what are you-"

"Shh. Amelia, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes." Sherlock interrupted me.

"What? Why?" I asked as I closed my eyes.

"I need you to maximize your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?" Sherlock replied.

"Yes." I answered.

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes."

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes."

"How much can you remember it?"

"Don't worry."

"The average human memory on visual matters is only 62% accurate."

"I did not know that. Don't worry, I remember all of it, Sherlock." I replied, opening my eyes to stare into his pretty blue ones. "If I can get to my pocket."

He let go of me and I took a step back, grabbing my phone from my jean pocket, "I took a picture."

I pulled the picture up and showed it to him. When we got back home Sherlock printed the pictures and I made tea. I sat down in Sherlock's chair and John was sitting at the table, looking like he was ready to fall asleep.

"Always in pairs." Sherlock said. "Numbers come with partners."

"God, I need to sleep." John commented.

"Why did he paint it near the tracks?" Sherlock questioned.

"No idea." I said.

"Thousands of people pass by there everyday." Sherlock said.

"Just 20 minutes." John said.

"Go sleep." I whispered to John, "I'll watch him."

John nodded and left towards his room.

"Of course! He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. And it's somewhere here, in a code."

Sherlock then started to rip the pictures off the wall, "We can't crack this wihtout Soo Lin Yao."

"Who?"

"She works at the museum." Sherlock replied. "Where's John?"

"He's tired, so I'll go with you." I answered.

"Alright, let's go."

* * *

"Two men who traveled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in Hang Zhou numerals." Sherlock told one of Soo Lin Yao's colleuges, "Soo Lin Yao is in danger. That cipher, it was just the same pattern


	7. Chapter 7

"Two men who traveled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in Hang Zhou numerals." Sherlock told one of Soo Lin Yao's colleagues, "Soo Lin Yao is in danger. That cipher, it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well."

"Look, I've tried everywhere- friends, colleagues. I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away." Andy replied.

"What are you looking at?" I asked Sherlock.

"Tell me more about those teapots." Sherlock said, walking toward a display case with clay tea pots.

"The pots were her obsession. They need urgent work. If they dry out, then the clay can start to crumble." Andy said. "Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them."

"Yesterday, only one of these pots was shining. Now there are two."

That night John came with us and we stayed hidden in the bathrooms until the museum closed. Then we went to the basement where Soo Lin Yao was.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" Sherlock asked.

Soo Lin gasped and dropped the tea pot and Sherlock caught it.

"Centuries old. Don't want to break that." Sherlock stood up and gave the pot back to her,

"Hello." I said.

* * *

"You saw the cipher. You know he is coming for me." Soo Lin said.

"You've been clever to avoid him so far." Sherlock replied.

"I hd to finish, to finish this work." Soo Lin responded. "It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."

"Who is he? Have you met him before?" I asked.

"When I was a girl living back in China. I recognize his... signature."

"The cipher?" Sherlock asked.

"Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu."

"Zhi Zhu?" John questioned.

"The Spider." Sherlock said.

Soo Lin untied her shoe and showed us a tattoo on her foot, "You know this mark?"

"Yes. It's the mark of a Tong." Sherlock answered.

"Hmm?"

"Ancient crime syndicate, based in China." Sherlock said, looking at John and I.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark. Everyone who hails for them." Soo Lin said.

"Hauls?" John questioned, "You mean you were a smuggler?"

Soo Lin put her shoe back on, "I was 15. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood, no way of surviving day to day, except to work for the bosses."

"Who are they?" Sherlock asked.

"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was 16, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England. They gave me a job... here. Everything was good. New life." Soo Lin answered.

"Then he came looking for you." I said.

"Yes. I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours, they are never very far away." Soo Lin wiped her tears away, "He came to my flat. He asked me to help him track down something that was stolen."

"And you have no idea what it was?" John asked.

She shook her head, "I refused to help."

"So you knew him well when you were living back in China?" John questioned.

Soo Lin nodded, "Oh, yes. He's my brother."

Well that was a plot twist.

"Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet, in the power of one they call Shan, Black Lotus General. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day, I came to work and the cipher was waiting." Soo Lin said.

Sherlock grabbed the pictures from his pocket and lied them out, "Can you decipher theses?"

"These are numbers."

"Yes, I know."

"Here, the line across the man's eyes, it's a Chinese number one." Soo Lin said.

"And this one is 15. But what's the code?" Sherlock asked.

"All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book." Soo Lin started when the lights turned off. "He's here. Zhi Zhu... He has found me."

Sherlock started running for the door.

"Sherlock, wait!" I yelled.

"Come on, over here." John said, moving Soo Lin and I and we hid behind a counter.

"I have to go and help him. Bolt the door after me." John told me.

After a few moments I stood up, "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"John, where is he?" I asked John when I found him.

"I don't know." John answered.

Then we heard a gunshot from the room I was just in.

"Oh my god." John said softly.

We ran down the stairs and back into the room. I looked around before stopping. On the counter was Soo Lin. With a black lotus in her hand.

* * *

"How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" John asked the Detective Inspector Dimmock.

Dimmock didn't answer John and walked past us, "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."

"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers, a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose." Sherlock said.

"Can you prove that?" Dimmock asked.

We left after that. Sherlock was panning on going to Bart's to look at the bodies.

"I'll see you two at the flat." I said.

"You're not coming with?" Sherlock asked.

"I've got work tomorrow, Sherlock." I replied.

"But I need you. You're better at this than John is." He whined.

"Okay, tell you what. In a month or so I get a week long vacation. I'll help you with every case you got then, okay?"

"Fine."

"Don't pout, Sherlock. It makes you look like a puppy that's been kicked." I mocked before patting his head and getting into a different cab.

I got back to the flat and said good night to Mrs. Hudson on the way up the stairs. I went into my room to change into my night clothes which were short shorts and a Batman tank top before falling asleep on my bed. I woke up about an hour later to noise coming from the living room. It was midnight!

I walked down the hallway and saw crates stacked up. They were filled with books. Sherlock was grabbing books and giving them to John.

"I don't even want to know." I said to myself before going back into my bedroom and to my warm bed.

"Amelia!"

"Amelia!"

"Amelia!"

I groaned and used my pillow to block out the noise and fell back asleep.

"Amelia, wake up."

"Leave me alone, Sherlock."

I then felt pressure on my stomach and I lifted the pillow off my face and saw Sherlock straddling me.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"John's gone and I need help." Sherlock answered.

"Where'd he go?" I asked.

"Work." Sherlock replied with a look of disgust on his face.

I gasped, "He got the job at the clinic?!"

"Yes."

"Oh, good for him. You need help with the book thing?" I questioned.

"Yes."

"Ugh. Fine." I said, "Can you get off me now?"

Sherlock got off and walked out of my room.

"Child." I muttered before following him.

I followed him into the living room and helped him with the books. He explained to me that the numbers are pages and words in books. So Van Coon and Lukis need to have a few of the same books.

"What's book that everyone would own?" Sherlock asked.

"Ummm... dictionary?" I replied.

I looked behind me and he was at his book shelf, grabbing a few books.

"15, entry one."

He looked through the three books before throwing them into the crates, obviously frustrated. As he was ruffling his hair, John walked in.

"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight." Sherlock said, "Amelia, can you come?"

"Work till midnight tonight." I replied.

"And I've got a date." John said.

"What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John replied.

"That's what I was suggesting." Sherlock said.

"No, it wasn't." John replied. "At least I hope not."

"Where are you taking her?" I asked.

"Cinema."

"Dull, boring, predictable." Sherlock commented. "Why don't you try this? In London for one night only."

"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice." John said.

* * *

"Have fun at the circus." I told John before I left for my shift.

I was in the middle of my shift, serving a tourist couple, when I noticed a book they were looking at. There were a few other people in this place, one other group had one.

London A-Z.

Then it hit me. A book everyone would own.

I walked into the kitchen and out the back door, grabbing my phone out of my pocket.

Come on, come on, pick up." I whispered.

"What?" Sherlock asked harshly.

"What's up with you?" I asked.

"I'm frustrated. Now tell me what you want."

"I know the book." I said.

"What?" He asked.

"The book, it's London A through Z." I replied.

"Lukis and Van Coon had that same book." Sherlock responded after a few seconds, "Amelia, you are brilliant!"

"I'm brilliant." I smiled to myself before going back inside to finish the last hour of my shift.

* * *

"What was it?" I asked when I ran into the flat. "The message?"

In the kitchen John and Sherlock stood on either side of the table, drinking tea.

"Here." Sherlock said, giving me the picture.

"Nine mill. Million?"

"Million." Sherlock confirmed.

"Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den black tramway." I said, reading the words Sherlock wrote.

"An instruction to all their London operatives. A message- what they were trying to reclaim." Sherlock said, giving me a mug of tea,

"A jade pin." John replied.

"Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the tramway, their London hideout."

"Hang on. A hair pin worth nine million pounds?" I questioned.

"Apparently." Sherlock replied.

"Why so much?" John asked.

"Depends who owned it." Sherlock answered before drinking his tea.

* * *

The next morning the three of us went to the bank to tell Sebastian that the case was solved.

"Two operatives based in London. They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something, a little hairpin." Sherlock said.

"Worth nine million pounds." John said.

"Eddie Van Coon was the thief. He stole the treasure when he was in China."

"How do you know it was Van Coon, not Lukis?" John asked. "Even the killer didn't know that."

"Because of the soap." Sherlock answered.

"Soap?" I questioned myself as we walked into the bank.

John and I were in Sebastian's office, getting the check, that apparently he was going to give us when we solved the case.

"He really climbed up onto the balcony?" He asked.

"Nail a plank across the window and all your problems are over." I joked.

"Thanks." John said when he gave us the check.

"I think he bought it at a street market." The secretary said, giving the jade pin to Sherlock.

"I think he pinched it." Sherlock replied.

"Yeah, that's Eddie."

"Didn't know it's value, just thought i would suit you." Sherlock said.

"Oh? What's it worth?" The secretary asked.

Sherlock smiled, "Nine million pounds."

"Oh, my god! Nine million!"

She was totally freaking out!


	8. Chapter 8

_I hated storms. I don't know why, I just do. I hate the sound and the darkness. They were scary in my mind._

_"Dad, I want to go home, please, I'm scared."_

_"Alright. Your mum and I will be pick you up in about an hour. We're in the middle of eating."_

_"Okay."_

_An hour later my parents picked me up from my friends house. Mum was annoyed, you could see it on her face. Dad smiled when he saw me and picked me up. I was 12, but he was still strong enough to carry me like I was five. I was clutching onto the bottom of my shirt on the drive home. The lightning scared me. We were driving on the bridge when a huge boom of thunder happened._

_I jumped and let out a small scream._

_Mom, who was driving, turned around and started yelling at me._

_I was staring out the windshield when another crack of thunder came and I saw a bright light. I heard my dad yelling and my mom screamed. Something hit the car, forcing it to spin out of control and break though the railing on the bridge and the car hit the water below._

* * *

I gasped and sat up. Another stupid nightmare. I looked over at my alarm clock to see it was 9 pm. I groaned and threw my pillow across the room. It was my week off and I wanted to sleep. That's not gonna happen tonight. I stood up and walked out of my room and into the living room, where Sherlock was on his chair, lying back with a gun in his hand. And a yellow smiley face drawn on the wall.

I'm not gonna even bother asking him.

"Nightmare?" He asked me as I lied down on the sofa.

"Yep." I said, popping the 'p'.

"Parents death?"

"Mmhmm." I replied as the door downstairs shut.

It must be John.

Sherlock then raised his gun and shot above me, at the smiley face.

"What the hell are you doing?" John asked, running into the flat.

"Bored."

"What?"

"Bored!" Sherlock exclaimed, standing up.

He shot again, "Bored!" He put the gun around his back and shot again, "Bored!"

John walked over to him and took his gun and Sherlock let him.

"I don't know what's got into the criminal classes. It's a good job I'm not one of them." Sherlock said.

"So you take it out on the wall?" I asked.

"Oh, the wall had it coming." Sherlock replied, standing in front of the sofa, touching the face before he jumped on top of me.

"Sherlock!"

"You shouldn't have been here." He replied.

"You have your own chair!" I said.

"Well, I can't lie down on a chair, can I?"

"Yes you can. Oh, god you're heavy." I complained.

Sherlock moved his weight toward the sofa cushions and I fell off the sofa. I pouted and sat in his chair.

"What about that Russian case?" John asked.

"Belarus- open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." Sherlock answered.

"Oh, shame. What time is it?" I asked John.

"Ten past nine." He answered before he walked into the kitchen.

Visiting time at the hospital ended at ten. I didn't have a chance to visit dad today.

"Anything in? I'm starving." John asked.

I heard the fridge door open, "...oh!"

And it closed.

"There's a head. A severed head." John said.

"Just tea for me, thanks." I replied.

"There's a head in the fridge." John said.

"Yes?"

"A bloody head." John replied.

"Where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock asked. "You don't mind, do you? I got it from Barts morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

"Yes." John replied, sitting in his chair.

"'A Study in Pink'- nice." Sherlock commented.

"Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink." John responded. "Did you like it?"

"I like it." I said.

"Um... no." Sherlock replied, opening a catalog.

I sighed before standing up and heading to my bedroom. I got dressed in a pair of jeans, a tank top, and an oversized sweater. After I put on my converse I went into the living room.

"Did you make more comments about the solar system again?" I asked John when I saw Sherlock pouting.

John nodded before grabbing his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked him.

"Out. I need some air." John answered.

"Excuse me, Mrs Hudson."

"Oh, sorry, love."

"Have you two had a little domestic?" Mrs. Hudson asked Sherlock.

Sherlock stood up and walked over the coffee table and walked over to the window.

"It's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more." Mrs. Hudson said.

"Well, I'm off." I said, putting on my coat.

"Where are you going? Can I come, too?" Sherlock asked.

"No." I answered immediately.

I mentally slapped myslef, that sounded very suspicious.

Sherlock turned around and walked up to me, "You're hiding something."

I glared up at him, "You follow me, and I burn the head."

That wasn't any less suspicious. I'll kick myself later for that one.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would." I replied before going down the stairs.

I was out on the street before I forgot my keys to the flat. No doubt Mrs. Hudson would lock the door after ten. I ran up back into the flat and saw Sherlock smiling at the face on the wall.

"Mrs. Hudson leave already?" I asked.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked again.

I walked up to him.

"None,"

Poke

"Of."

Poke.

"Your."

Poke.

"Business."

I poked him one last time in the chest.

He narrowed his eyes at me before there was an explosion and I fell backwards, Sherlock following me.

* * *

"Sherlock! Amelia!"

"Hi, John." I said.

Sherlock was on his chair, plucking the strings of his violin. On John's chair was Mycroft. and I saw sitting on the floor, drinking tea. Mycroft was telling Sherlock about a possible case.

"I saw it on the telly, are you two okay?" John asked.

"Me? What? Oh, yeah, fine, gas leak apparently." Sherlock answered.

I looked up at John, "I'm fine."

"I can't."

"Can't?" Mycroft questioned.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock said.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Mycroft replied.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock asked.

"Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him John." Mycroft said.

"What?" John asked.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" I asked.

"No, no, no, no, I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time, not with the Korean elections so.." He stopped and we all looked at him, "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this, it requires... legwork."

"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?" Sherlock asked.

"Sofa." Mycroft and I said at the same time.

"Sofa, Sherlock, it was the sofa."

"Oh, yes, of course." Sherlock replied, looking at John again.

"How... never mind." John started before sitting down on the sofa.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you three became... pals. What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine." Mycroft said.

"I'm never bored." John replied.

"Good. That's good, isn't it?"

"You're the one who had to live with him for years." I said.

Sherlock plucked another string and glared at me. I smiled back. Mycroft stood up and grabbed a file and held it out for Sherlock to take. When Sherlock didn't take it he held it out for me and I bit his hand. Mycroft gave me a look before heading toward John.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends, civil servant, found dead on the tracks of Battersea station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?" John asked, taking the file.

"That seems the logical assumption." Mycroft replied.

"But?"

"But?"

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." John said.

"The MoD is working on a new missile defense system. The Bruce Partington program, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick." Mycroft continued.

"That wasn't very smart." I commented.

"It's not the only copy." Mycroft replied. "But it is secret... and missing."

"Top secret." John said.

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick and we can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands. You've got to find these plans, Sherlock." Don't make me order you." Mycroft replied.

Sherlock took his violin and put it under his chin and grabbed the bow, "I'd like to see you try."

"Think it over." Mycorft said.

"Good bye, Amelia," He patted me on the head and I tried to bite him again, "John."

Sherlock then started playing his violin very annoyingly until Mycroft left.

"Why'd you lie?" John asked. "You've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Wy did you tell your brother you were busy?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock replied rubbing the back of his head with his bow.

"Oh. Nice. Sibling rivalry, now we're getting somewhere."

Sherlock's phone started ringing.

"Sherlock Holmes... Of course, how could I refuse?" Sherlock said before hanging up.

"Lestrade, I've been summoned." Sherlock helped me up, "Coming?"

"If you want me to." John replied.

"Of course. I'd be lost without my blogger."

* * *

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." Lestrade said.

"Obviously." Sherlock replied.

"You're going to love this. That explosion..."

"Gas leak, yes?" Sherlock asked.

"No." Lestrade answered.

"No?"

"No, made to look like one." Lestrade said.

"What?" John questioned.

"Hardly anything left of the place except for a strong box- a very strong box- and inside it was this." Lestrade said, pointing at a letter addressed to Sherlock Holmes.

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it? We've x-rayed it; it's not booby-trapped." Lestrade answered.

"How reassuring." Sherlock said before picking up the letter and walking over to the lamp.

"Nice stationary. Bohemian."

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"No." Lestrade answered.

"She used a fountain pen. Parker Duofold, iridium nib."

"She?" John asked.

"Obviously."

"Obviously." John replied.

Sherlock took a mail opener and cut the top open before taking out a familiar pink phone.

"But that's the phone, the pink phone." John said.

"What, from 'The Study in Pink'?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like..." Sherlock began before turning to Lestrade, "'A Study in Pink'? You read his blog?"

"Of course I read his blog; we all do. Do you really not know that the Earth goes around the Sun?" Lestrade replied.

Sally snickered and we watched her leave the room, "It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new. Someone's got to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone. Which means your blog has a far wider readership."

"You have one new message." The voicemail said.

The phone beeped five times.

"Is that it?" John asked.

"No, that's not it." Sherlock said before showing us a picture.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade asked. "An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips."

"It's a warning." Sherlock said.

"A warning?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again." Sherlock replied before he started walking out of the room, "I've seen this place before."

"Hang on. What's going to happen again?" John asked.

"Boom!" Sherlock answered.


	9. Chapter 9

We went back to 221B Baker Street with Lestrade in the cab behind us. Instead of going to our flat we went to 221C.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

Mrs. Hudson came out with the keys and handed them to Sherlock,

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat?" Mrs. Hudson said.

"The door's been opened recently." Sherlock replied.

"No, it can't be, that's the only key." Mrs. Hudson responded. "I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements. I had a place once when I was first married,"

Sherlock got the door open and we all walked in except for Mrs. Hudson. We followed Sherlock into a room, the room that was in the picture. Only one difference. There were a pair of trainers sitting in the middle.

"He's a bomber, remember." John said when Sherlock started walking toward the shoes.

Sherlock then laid on the ground, looking at the trainers before a cell phone rang. He stood back up and grabbed the phone from his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Hello... sexy." The woman on the other side was crying.

"Who is this?" Sherlock asked.

"I've sent you a little puzzle just to say hi."

"Who's talking?" Sherlock questioned. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying, I'm typing and this stupid bitch is reading it out."

"The curtain rises." Sherlock said.

"What?" John asked.

"Nothing." Sherlock replied.

"No, what did you mean?" John asked.

"I've been expecting this for some time." Sherlock answered.

"12 hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock, or I'm going to be so naughty."

The crying woman hung up and Sherlock grabbed the shoes.

* * *

My cousin was in London for the day and she wanted to catch up. She was one of the only family members that was still nice to me after my mother's death. So we went out for lunch. Of course, Sherlock complained. He reminded me from about a month ago I promised him that I would help him with any case on my week off. I told him I'd only be gone for about an hour and I'd meet him and John back at the flat.

"I'm back!" I yelled into the flat as I took off my coat.

No one answered and I saw that the kitchen door was closed. I opened it and saw Sherlock looking at the shoes and papers.

"Where's John?" I asked him.

"Talking to my brother as we speak." He answered.

"Is it the Andrew West case?" I questioned.

"Mmhmm." Sherlock answered.

"Need any help?"

"No thank you."

"Alright." I said before going back into the living room and going to the bookshelf.

I had nothing else to do, so I looked through some books before finding one that caught me eye. I sat in Sherlock's chair and opened to page one.

* * *

"Poison!"

I closed the book about an hour later, I was on page 176. I stood up and walked into the kitchen to see what he was talking about after greeting John.

"What are you going on about?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Clostridium botulinum." Sherlock said, slamming his hands on the table and scaring Mrs. Hudson out of the flat and turning to John and I, "It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet."

We looked at him, confused.

"Carl Powers!"

"Are you saying he was murdered?" John asked.

I'm gonna take a guess here, but I think the shoes belonged to Carl Powers, whoever that was.

"Remember the shoelaces? The boy suffered from eczema. It would be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison through his medication. Two hours later he comes to London, the poison takes effect, paralyzes the muscles and he drowns." Sherlock continued.

"How come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" I asked.

"It's virtually undetectable, and nobody would have been looking for it." Sherlock answered as he began typing on his computer, " But there's still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet." He pressed enter, "That's why they had to go."

"How do we let the bomber know?" John asked.

"Get his attention." Sherlock answered before looking at his watch, "Stop the clock."

"The killer kept the shoes all these years."

"Yes. Meaning..."

"He's our bomber." John said.

The phone rang and the lady sobbed,

"Well done, you. Come and get me."

"Where are you?" Sherlock asked. "Tell us where you are."

* * *

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." Lestrade told us the next morning. "Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager."

John picked up the pager that she had.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off." Sherlock said.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case." I replied.

"Ah, elegant."

"Elegant?" John questioned.

"What was the point? Why would anyone do this?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored." Sherlock answered.

"Except for the person shooting at walls, they explode people." I muttered before the phone got a message.

"You have one new message."

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep,

"Four pips." John said.

"First test passed, it would seem." Sherlock responded before showing Lestrade the picture. "Here's the second."

"It's old, and rusty. Abandoned, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll see if it's been reported." Lestrade said before grabbing his phone.

"Freak? It's for you." Sally said, holding out a mobile phone.

Sherlock left the room and I grabbed the phone to see the car.

"It's not reported." I whispered to Lestrade.

"What?"

"I know that car." I replied, sitting down and clutching the phone.

It was a gray, 1994 Cherokee Jeep. The car my mum, dad, and I were in that night.

"Who's is it?" John asked me.

"Mine." I answered.

"What do you mean it's yours?" John asked.

"It wasn't mine, mine, it was my mother's. That was the car my family and I were in the night we went into the river." I replied. "Where is it?"

"Maybe it's not the car we're investigating. Maybe it's your parent's death." John said.

"I don't understand how it's a case at all." I said as Sherlock came back in, "Mum lost control of the car when lightning stuck in front of us and we fell into the water. Mum didn't get out in time."

We decided to continue the investigation back at the flat. John informed Sherlock that it was my car from 1996.

"How exactly did your parents die?" Sherlock asked as we walked into our flat.

"Drowned." I answered. "And I'm going to ask again, why is this even a case?"

No one answered. I expected Sherlock to at least say something. I kicked the wall in frustration before sitting down on the sofa. I watched as Sherlock sat down on his chair. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs and put his hands together as in a prayer and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. John sighed before sitting on his chair.

After a few minutes Sherlock stood up and walked over to me.

"Where were you going?"

"What?" I asked.

"Before the explosion you were going to go somewhere. I asked you if I could come and you said no. Where were you going?" Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock, it won't help." I said.

"Where... were... you... going?" He asked again.

I sighed, "Hospital."

"Why?" John asked.

I sighed before I stood up and grabbed my coat and I turned and saw them watching me, "Do you want to know why or not?"

Once they got their coats on we left and got into a cab. We were silent the whole drive. Once we got there I got out first and didn't wait for the boys before going inside. After signing the three of us in, I led them toward the elevator.

"Are you sick?" John asked as the elevator dinged, telling me that we were at the third level.

I didn't answer as I stepped out of the elevator.

"Hi, Amelia. I didn't think you were going to come today." Nancy greeted.

"Didn't think so either." I replied before walking towards my dad's room.

I opened the door before stepping away, holding my arm toward the room, offering for them to go first. Once they went in I followed.

"Who is he?" Sherlock asked, looking at my father.

"You tell me, consulting detective." I replied.

After a moment in silence he spoke, "Your father."

I nodded and sat down in my usual chair.

"I thought you said he was dead?" John asked me.

"No, I always said my mum was, I said nothing about my father." I replied.

"How long has he been like this?" Sherlock asked.

"14 years. Since the accident." I answered before the pink phone rang.

"Hello." Sherlock said.

"It wasn't an accident. That's your clue." I heard and my eyes widened.

"Why would you be giving me a clue?" Sherlock asked.

"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other, Sherlock."

"Then talk to me in your own voice." Sherlock replied.

"Patience."

Sherlock hung up and looked over at me, "It wasn't an accident."

"Why would anyone want to kill my parents?" I asked. "I mean, my mum was mean to me, but everyone loved her and my dad."

"Why was she mean to you?" John asked me.

I shrugged my shoulder, "Probably 'cause she didn't want me. My dad asked for weeks and she got frustrated."

"What?"

"I'm adopted. Jen was going in to get her tonsils removed and dad hated hospitals. He said he went to see the newborns and saw me and apparently 'fell in love', at least that's what he said. He kept asking my mum and she finally agreed." I said.

"Alright, Amelia, I need you to tell me everything that happened that night, okay?" Sherlock said.

I nodded, "Um, I was at a sleepover when it started storming. I always hated storms. I got too scared and called my dad. He was out with my mum and he said after they were done eating they would come and get me. When they did mum kept yelling at me. We were at the Hungerford Bridge. There was another crash of thunder and I remember flinching. Mum turned around and yelled at me. Then dad told mum to 'look out' and she lost control of the car. Then the car went off the bridge and into the water. I was pulled out first, then dad, then mum. Dad was gone for awhile, but they brought him back. He had brain damage and he hasn't woken up since."

I had tears in my eyes, "The reason I wasn't able to get a flat was because I had to pay the medical bills. Jen doesn't help and she got all the money since she was the oldest."

Who would want to kill my parents? Everyone loved mum and dad.

"Hungerford Bridge?" Sherlock asked.

I nodded.

"Let's go." He said, standing up and heading towards the door.

I sighed and stood up. I patted dad's hand before following Sherlock out the door, John beside me. We barely got in the cab before Sherlock spoke,

"It had to be a driver."

"How can you know for sure?" John asked.

"Hungerford Bridge has had security cameras set up since 1990. Scotland Yard has all the tapes probably since then." Sherlock answered.

"Security cameras?" I questioned.

"For dumpings, crashes, suicides, things like that." Sherlock replied.

"Don't you think they would know if a driver hit my family that night?" I asked.

"No." He answered.

* * *

_A few hours later_

Sherlock solved it... and we saved that man from being blown up with two hours to spare. I was now laying down on the sofa with my eyes shut.

Turns out someone did hit the car on purpose. It took a while to find the right tape, and when we did find it I was nearly in tears. You could figure out the licence plate, and the person wasn't drunk, either. The person was driving perfectly until it saw my family's car. Then it swerved over, hit the car. The car drove back over to the right side of the road and drove away.

But why my family? And why did they chose now to reveal what happened? It wasn't interesting at all, hardly had to put work into it to find out the truth.

The next morning Sherlock and John left to eat breakfast, but I stayed at the flat. Hours later they come back with pictures, a map, and letters.

"Connection, connection. There must be a connection." Sherlock said to himself as he paced. "Carl Powers, killed 20 years ago. The bomber knew him, admitted that he knew him. The bomber's iPhone was in stationery from the Czech Republic. The first hostage from Cornwall, the second from London, the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What's he doing? Working his way around the world? Showing off?"

The iPhone rang and Sherlock answered it.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the dots? Three hours. Boom... boom." The hostage was an old lady.

* * *

"Great. Thank you, thanks again." Sherlock said on his phone.

"It's a real shame. I liked her." Mrs. Hudson said, "She taught you how to do your colors."

"Colors?" Lestrade questioned.

"You know! What goes best with what. I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me." Mrs. Hudson replied.

"Who's that?" Lestrade asked Sherlock once he hung up.

"Home office."

"Home office?"

"Well, Home Secretary, actually. Owes me a favor." Sherlock responded.

"A pretty girl but she messed about with herself too much. They all do these days. People can hardly move their faces. It's silly, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson giggled before turning to Sherlock, "Did you ever see her show?"

"Not until now." He answered.

Sherlock grabbed his computer and opened it and there was a video of the dead lady and another man.

"That's her brother. No love lost there, if you can believe the papers." Mrs. Hudson said.

"So I gather." Sherlock replied. "I've just been having a very fruitful chat with people who love this show. Fan sites, indispensable for gossip."

Not long after Sherlock left to meet up with John and Lestrade went back to the Scotland Yard. I'm glad that they understood that I needed to be left alone. Sherlock is a little rusty about picking that sort of thing up. Mrs. Hudson left me with a cup of tea before going downstairs.

All these years I thought that it was my fault that mum died and dad ended up in a coma. If I hadn't been scared that night, they would have driven home without a problem. But now I know that it wasn't because of me, they were targeted. Maybe it was just a random murder, it wasn't specifically my family and I.

When it got dark I changed into my night clothes and I went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning I got up and Sherlock and John were in their chairs, watching the news.

_"12 dead in gas explosion."_

"A whole block of flats. He certainly gets about." John said.

"Well, obviously I lost that round, although technically I did solve the case, so..." Sherlock said before shutting off the telly, "He killed the old lady because she started to describe him. Just once, he put himself in the firing line."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"Well, usually he must stay above it all. He organizes these things, but no one ever has direct contact." He answered.

"Hmm, what, like the Connie Prince murder?" John questioned. "He arranged that? People come to him wanting their crimes fixed up like booking a holiday?"

"Taking his time this time." Sherlock commented, looking at his watch.

"Anything on the Carl Powers case?" John asked.

"Nothing." Sherlock answered. "All the living classmates check out, spotless, no connection."

"Maybe the killer was older than Carl." John suggested.

"The thought had occurred."

"So why is he doing this, then, playing this game with you?" John asked. "Do you think he wants to be caught?"

"I think he wants to be distracted." Sherlock replied.

"I hope you'll be very happy together." I joked.

"Amelia." John said, turning around and looking at me, "How are you feeling?"

"As good as can be expected under the circumstances." I answered.

John stood up and walked into the kitchen before coming out with a plate of eggs and bacon, "Mrs. Hudson brought you some food. She told me that you didn't eat at all yesterday."

"Thanks." I replied, taking the plate and sitting down at the kitchen table.

I took my first bite as the phone dinged.

"Excellent!" Sherlock exclaimed before looking at the picture, "A view of Thames, South Bank somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo. I'll look online, you check the papers."

As Sherlock typed quickly on his phone, John sat down on the sofa and started looking at the stack of papers we had on the coffee table.

"Suicide..."

"Turn the page."

"Two kids stabbed in Stoughton. Ah, man found on the train line- Andrew West."

"Nothing." Sherlock muttered before calling someone.

"It's me. Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?" Sherlock questioned.

After getting an answer he hung up and grabbed his coat.

"Let's go, John."

"Can I come?" I asked, putting down my fork.

"No. You eat, we'll be back later." Sherlock answered before leaving with John.

"Since when did he give a damn if I ate or not?" I asked myself before I continued eating.


	10. Chapter 10

A few hours later Sherlock came back without a John. He told me about the gallery attendant being killed by Golem, an assassin, because he knew the Vermeer painting was a fake. When John comes back, we're going to find the Golem and I could come.

"Alex Woodbridge didn't know anything special about art." John said as he stepped out of the cab.

"And?"

"And..." John looked confused.

"Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?" Sherlock asked.

"He was an amateur astronomer." John said as Sherlock walked a little bit of ways away.

"Hold that cab." Sherlock said before going over to a homeless lady. "Fortunately I haven't been idle. Come on."

The cabbie drove us to an alleyway and Sherlock told him to wait here.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sherlock asked, looking up at the stars.

"I thought you didn't care about things like that." John replied.

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."

"Listen, Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answer phone at his flat. A Professor Cairns?" John said.

"This way." Sherlock said.

"Nice. Nice part of town." John commented. "Anytime you want to explain..."

"Homeless network. My eyes and ears all over the city. Absolutely indispensable." Sherlock explained.

"Oh, that's clever. So, you scratch their back, and then..." John started.

"Yes, and then disinfect myself." Sherlock finished.

We walked down a dark section, Sherlock and John searching with their flash lights. I looked ahead of me and saw a shadow of a man standing up. He was very, very tall. In my opinion, it looked like a Golem. I tugged on Sherlock's sleeve and pointed.

Sherlock called for John as we hid behind a wall.

"What's he doing sleeping rough?" John asked.

"Well, he has a very distinctive look. He has to hide somewhere where tongues won't wag, much." Sherlock answered.

"Oh.. sh.." John started.

"What?" I asked.

"I wish I..."

"Don't mention it." Sherlock said, giving John his gun.

I saw the Golem run and I grabbed both of their arms and we ran after him. When we got to where he was, he got in a car and drove away.

"No! No! No!" Sherlock yelled, "It'll take us weeks to find him again."

"Or not. I've an idea where he might be going." John replied.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I told you. Someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There can't be that many Professor Cairns in the book. Come on." John said before we ran back to the cab.

* * *

"Golem!" Sherlock yelled when we got to the dark room.

I heard something crack and the room went dark.

"I can't see him. I'll go around, I'll go." John said running toward the stairs.

"Amelia, stay where you are. Who are you working for this time, Dzundza?" Sherlock asked.

I let out a scream as the tall man grabbed Sherlock.

"Golem!" John exclaimed as he pointed his gun at the man, "Let him go or I will kill you."

Golem threw Sherlock aside and went for John and Sherlock anciently kicked the gun out of John's hand. Golem got John to the ground before going after Sherlock again. I wanted to help, but he told me to stay where I was. And beside, what good will it do if I end up dead? I helped John up and he jumped on Golem's back. If we weren't in a life threatening situation, I would laugh and film this.

The Golem got John off and started running for the door. I ran over to John's gun and aimed the best I could and pulled the trigger. It was too bright, so I didn't hit him. But I did get pretty close.

* * *

"It's a fake. It has to be." Sherlock said when we got to the gallery.

"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science." The lady replied.

"It's a very good fake, then." He said before turning to her, "You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?"

She turned to Lestrade, "Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing you and your friends out?"

The pink phone rang and Sherlock answered it, "The painting is a fake... It's a fake. That's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed... Oh, come on! Proving is just a detail. The painting is a fake, I've solved it, I've figured it out. It's a fake, that's the answer. That's why they were killed... Okay, I'll prove it." Sherlock said when there wasn't a response, "Give me time. Will you give me time?"

_"Ten..."_

Oh, my god.

"It's a kid." Lestrade said. "Oh, god. It's a kid."

"What did he say?" John asked.

_"Nine..."_

"Ten." Sherlock answered and he looked at the painting, "It's a countdown, he's giving me time."

"Jesus."

"It's a fake, but how can I prove it? How, how?"

_"Eight..."_

"This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake! Tell me!" Sherlock yelled, turning to the lady,

_"Seven..."_

"No, shut up. Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out." Sherlock replied. "Must be staring me in the face."

_"Six..."_

"How? How? But how?!"

_"Five..."_

"He's speeding up." Lestrade said.

"Sherlock!" I exclaimed.

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed.

_"Four..."_

"In the planetarium, you two heard it, too." Sherlock said, "That is brilliant, that is gorgeous."

_"Three..."_

"What's brilliant? What is?" John asked as Sherlock gave him the phone and took out his own.

"This is beautiful. I love this!" Sherlock exclaimed as he walked towards us.

_"Two..."_

"Sherlock!" John and I yelled at the same time.

Sherlock grabbed the pink phone, "The Van Buren supernova."

The clock stopped ticking and it was silent for a few moments, "Please, is somebody there? Somebody help me."

We all let out a sigh of relief knowing that the kid was okay, "There you go. Go find out where he is and pick him up." Sherlock said, giving the phone to Lestrade. "The Van Buren supernova, so-called. Exploding star. Only appeared in the sky in 1858."

"So how could it have been painted in the 1640s." John laughed, looking at the painting.

We took a cab over to the Scotland Yard. While Sherlock went in with Lestrade, John told me he had to go somewhere. I stayed in the cab with him, and he dropped me off at the flat. I wanted to go with him, but he told me to get some rest, have a cup of tea.

* * *

I was bored out of my mind. Is this what Sherlock felt like when there weren't any cases? I was tempted to shoot the wall. Mrs. Hudson made me some dinner, risotto, I ate it before continuing the book I started that morning. After I finished the book I took a shower. When it started to get dark, Sherlock and John came back.

"Did you solve the Andrew West case?" I asked.

"Yes. We did. Wasn't that hard." Sherlock answered before he sat down on his chair.

John sat down too and turned on the telly. After a few minutes John went on his laptop. I sat on John's chair, watching whatever it was Sherlock was watching. Apparently it's a show about children finding out who their real father is, or something like that.

"No, no, no!" Sherlock yelled. He was getting way into this show. "Of course he's not the boy's father. Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

"I knew it was dangerous." John commented.

"Hmmm?"

"Getting you into crap telly." He answered.

"Not a patch on Connie Prince." Sherlock said.

"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" John asked.

"Yep. He was over the moon." Sherlock answered. "Threatened me with a knighthood... again."

"You know I'm still waiting." John said.

"Hmm?" Sherlock questioned.

"For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker."

"Didn't do you any good, did it?"

"No, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective." John replied as he shut his laptop.

"True."

"I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's." John informed us as he stood up, "There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge."

"Mmm."

"Milk, we need milk." John stated.

"I'll get some." Sherlock replied and John stopped in the doorway.

"Really?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"Really." He answered.

"And some beans, then?"

"Mmm." Sherlock said, his eyes still on the telly screen.

Once the door closed, I watched Sherlock open his laptop and type quickly.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Sherlock looked at me and smirked before pressing enter and closing the screen. He stood up and flipped up his collar before walking towards the door. He stopped in the doorway and turned to me, "I'll be back in a while."

"Okay?"

He left and I stood up and put my shoes and coat on, ready to follow Sherlock. I walked down the side walk, about fifty yards behind him when an arm went around my waist and another pressed against my mouth and I was dragged into an alley. A needle pressed into my arm and everything went black.

A bright light filled my vision and I opened my eyes and saw that I was at a pool. Someone was behind me, pinning my arms behind my back, and I was sitting on a railing.

"Amelia!"

I looked down and saw fuzzy figures. But I recognized that deep voice.

"Sher... lock?" I questioned.

"What did you do to her?" He asked someone.

"Drugged her of course. Her sister was a pain in my arse for years." An Irish man answered.

"That's why you killed her mother. Amelia's sister laughed at you." John said.

"So you kill my parents?" I questioned.

"She needed to feel pain." He said, "The flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now." The man sang. "I've shown you what I could do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although I have loved this, this little game of ours, playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died." Sherlock commented.

"That's what people do!" The man's voice echoed throughout the pool.

"I will stop you." Sherlock stated.

"No, you won't." The man replied.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked John.

"You can talk, Johnny boy." The man said. "Go ahead."

"Take it." Sherlock said, holding out the memory stick.

"Huh?" The man asked and took it, "Oh, that. The missile plans." He kissed it before looking at Sherlock, "Boring! I could have gotten them anywhere."

The man threw the stick into the pool and John ran behind him and grabbed his arms.

"Sherlock, run!" John said.

"O-ho! Good! Very good!" The man chuckled,

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." John said.

"Isn't he sweet?" Moriarty asked. "I can see why you like having him around, but then people do get so sentimental about their pets. And so touchingly loyal, but... oops! You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson."

I looked at Sherlock and noticed the red dot on his forehead, and they both look at at me, their eyes wide. I looked down and saw the red dot aiming for my heart.

"Gotcha." Moriarty said and John let him go.

He dusted off his suit, "Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

"Oh, let me guess. I get killed." Sherlock answered.

"Kill you? No, don't be obvious. I mean I'm going to kill you anyway someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying... I'll burn you. I will burn the heart out of you." Moriarty replied.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock responded.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Moriarty looked at my briefly and smirked, "Well, I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?" Sherlock asked, keeping his gun aimed at Moriarty's head.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Moriarty made a surprised face before smiling, "Because I'd be surprised, Sherlock, really I would. And just a teensy bit... disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."

Moriarty walked towards the door, "Catch you... later."

"No, you won't."

Once the door closed I felt the arms behind my back disappear and I gripped the railing so I wouldn't fall forwards or backwards.

"Amelia, stay there!" Sherlock yelled and I watched as he unzipped the coat from John's body.

"All right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." John answered and Sherlock tossed the coat away from them.

Sherlock went out the door Moriarty left in and John rested against the wall, "Amelia, you okay?"

My limbs felt heavy and I tried to keep my eyes open, "Yeah."

Sherlock came back in and paced around, "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, fine, fine, fine." Sherlock answered.

"That, uh, thing that you... that you did, that you offered to do, that was, um... good." Sherlock said before looking at me, "Amelia, can you walk?"

I nodded, "Pretty sure. But I think I'll just hang here for a moment."

"I'm glad no one else saw that." John commented.

"Hmm?"

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." John continued.

"People do little else." Sherlock replied.

I started to move my legs toward the platform behind me when arms again grabbed my waist and covered my mouth. I saw red dots scatter around John and Sherlock's body.

"Sorry, boys! And girl. I'm so... changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try and convince you. Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." Moriarty exclaimed, walking back into the pool.

"Probably my answer has already crossed yours." Sherlock replied, turning and pointing his gun at the jacket John was wearing that had bombs on it.


	11. Chapter 11

The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I sat there, waiting for something to happen and all of the sudden Moriarty's phone started playing 'Stayin' Alive'.

"Do you mind if I get that?" Moriarty asked.

"Go ahead, please." Sherlock answered. "You've got the rest of your life."

He took out his phone and answered it,

"Hello. Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" While the person on the other line talked, Moriarty mouthed sorry to Sherlock. "Say that again!" Moriarty yelled and I flinched. "Say that again and know that if you're lying to me I will find you, and I will skin you. Wait." Moriarty lowered the phone,

"Sorry. Wrong day to die." Moriarty told us.

"No. Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asked.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." Moriarty said before walking towards the other exit, "So if you have what you, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes."

Moriarty snapped his fingers and the hand pushed me off the railing and I fell into the pool below.

* * *

_Sherlock POV_

I heard a splash and I turned around and Amelia wasn't on the railing anymore. I looked into the water and saw her flaming red hair. When she didn't come up I took off my coat and jumped in.

I found her at the bottom of the pool, her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open. I swam down to her and put my hands on both sides of her face. When she didn't open her eyes, I quickly put and arm around her waist and swam to the surface.

"John!" I yelled.

I swam to the edge and John pulled her up while I pulled myself up next to her. I moved her hair out of her face and checked her breathing, except she wasn't.

"She's not breathing!" I exclaimed before tilting her chin up and I breathed into her mouth. I pulled away and pressed my hands against her chest. I repeated the actions five times before John called my name.

"Sherlock, stop! She's gone!"

"No. Not yet." I replied before breathing into her mouth again.

When I pulled away from Amelia she started coughing up water and I pulled her up into a sitting position.

"Amelia? Amelia, can you hear me?" I asked.

She coughed a few more times before looking up at me and nodding. I held her to me and kissed her head. When I pulled away John took my coat and laid it on her shoulders.

* * *

_Amelia POV_

A few days after the Moriarty incident I was sitting on the couch, reading a book with a cup of tea on the table while John was on his computer and Sherlock was flipping through the paper.

"What are you typing?" Sherlock asked John.

"A blog." He answered.

"About?"

"Us."

"You mean me." Sherlock replied.

"Why?" John questioned.

"Well, you're typing a lot." Sherlock answered and John looked up at him as the doorbell rang.

"So, what ave we got?" Sherlock asked as he walked towards the door.

I stood up an placed my cup in the sink before going to my room to change. The next few weeks we had many cases. Some of them I couldn't be apart of because of work. We were on our way to an area outside of the airport to look at a body and I was talking to Sherlock about what he told the two little girls that visited our flat.

"You don't just tell young children that people are burned once they die." I said.

"It's the truth!" He replied.

"Well, they still don't have to know the truth until they're older. They were like six years old, Sherlock! Couldn't you humour them and told them that their granddad went to heaven?" I asked.

"You shouldn't lie to children." Sherlock responded.

I glared at him as Lestrade started speaking, "There was a plane crash in Düsseldorf yesterday. Everyone dead."

"Suspected terrorist bomb. We do watch the news." Sherlock replied.

"You said 'boring' and turned over." John commented.

"According to the flight details this man was checked in on board. Inside his coat he's got stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight, even one of these special biscuits." Lestrade said and he showed us the evidence, "Here's his passport stamped in Berlin airport. This man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday, but instead he's in a car boot in Suffolk."

"Lucky escape." John replied.

Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and looked at the dead body, "Any ideas?"

"Eight so far." He answered before pausing his movements, "Okay, four ideas." Sherlock then looked at the evidence then at the plane flying above us, "Maybe two ideas."

After we solved that one we got another case at the theatre.

"So what's this one?" Sherlock asked John as we began to leave, "Belly button murders?"

"The Navel Treatment." John corrected.

"There's a lot of press outside, you three." Lestrade commented as we walked through the hall towards the back exit.

"Well, they won't be interested in us." Sherlock replied.

"Yeah, that was before you were an internet phenomenon. A couple of them specifically wanted photographs of the three of you." Lestrade responded.

"God's sake." Sherlock said to John.

He stopped and called out our names, "Hmm?"

"Cover your faces and walk fast."

Sherlock put a baseball hat on my head and gave John a hat, too.

"Still, it's good for the public image. Big case like this." Lestrade continued.

"Private detective, the last thing I need is a public image." Sherlock replied as he put on a deer stalker hat and we walked outside.

He grabbed my hand and helped me walked through the crowd of people with flashing cameras. A few days later Sherlock solved the murders. I was cleaning up my room when I heard Mrs. Hudson yell,

"You've got another one!"

The three of us came into a kitchen and saw an overweight man laying on out floor. We got him to wake up and he sat in the chair. John and I sat on the couch while we listened.

"Tell us from the start. Don't be boring."

He told us about his car not working, and out in a field was a man looking up into the sky. When he tried to start the car again, it made a noise. And when he looked out into the field again, the man was on the ground, dead.

Sherlock had John got to the crime scene with his laptop so they could Facetime and Sherlock could see the crime scene. Why he couldn't go, I dont know. He said something like on a scale of one to ten, it was a six. And apparently he doesn't leave the flat unless it is at least a seven.

Sherlock was doing something while I sat on the chair with his computer, waiting for him to come out.

"You realize this is a tiny bit humiliating?" John asked.

"It's okay. I'm fine." Sherlock replied, walking into the room.

"Sorry, John." I apologized and I turned and saw Sherlock not wearing any clothes.

"Show me to the stream." Sherlock ordered as he sat next me.

"I really didn't mean for you." John replied.

"Look, this is a six. There's not point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven." Sherlock responded. "We agreed. Now go back. Show me the grass."

"When did we agree that?" John asked.

"We agreed it yesterday. Stop." Sherlock answered. "Closer."

I saw what Sherlock saw adn I looked over at him. Did the boomerang kill the man?

"I wasn't even at home yesterday. I was in Dublin." John replied.

"It's not my fault you weren't listening." Sherlock said and I slapped his arm before the doorbell rang, "Shut up!"

"You just carry on talking when we're away?" John asked.

"I don't know. How often are you away?" Sherlock questioned. "Now... show me the car that backfired."

John turned the computer so we could see the vehicle, "There."

"That's the one that made the noise, yes?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah." John answered. "If you're thinking gunshot, there wasn't one. He wasn't shot. He was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument which then magically disappeared along with the killer. It's got to be an eight at least."

While John spoke, I took Sherlock's coffee and took a sip. Yep, the boomerang killed him.

"You've got two more minutes then I want to know more about the driver." The man next to John said.

"Oh, forget him. He's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?" Sherlock replied and I smacked his arm again, did he not know he was behind us.

"I think he is a suspect." The man responded.

"Pass me over." Sherlock told John.

"All right. But there's a mute button and I will use it." John replied.

"Up a bit!" Sherlock exclaimed, "I'm not talking from down here."

"Okay. Just take it. Take it." John told the man and passed the laptop over.

"Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness. Why would he even call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?" Sherlock questioned.

"He's trying to be clever. He's overconfident." The man answered.

"Did you see him?" Sherlock asked. "Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own. The right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and limited life expectancy. You think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?" Sherlock turned to look at our client, "Don't worry. This is stupid."

"What did you say?" He asked, "Heart what?"

I, again, slapped his arm, "Ow, what do you want?"

"Stop being rude." I told him before turning to the man. "He means you should probably go visit a doctor."

"Go to the stream." Sherlock said again.

"What's in the stream?" The man asked.

"Go and see." Sherlock answered.

"Sherlock, Amelia," Mrs. Hudson said, walking into the flat, "You weren't answering your doorbell."

Two men in suits walked in and one man turned to the other, "His room is through the back. Get him some clothes."

"Who the hell are you?" Sherlock asked.

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes, Miss Jones." The man said.

"Sherlock, Amelia, what's going on?" John asked before the man closed the computer, "You two are coming with us."

We sat there as the other man came in and set Sherlock's clothes on the table in front of us, "Please, Mr. Holmes. Where you're going, you'll want to be dressed."

Sherlock looked up at him and I could tell what he was doing. He had his deducing face on. He smirked, "I know exactly where we're going."

"Miss Jones, please tell Mr. Holmes to get dressed." The man turned to me.

I raised my eyebrows, "I can't make this man do anything. He's more stubborn than a child."

They both sighed and they brought us to a car, "Where are we going?" I whispered to Sherlock.

"Somewhere exciting for you." He answered, smirking down at me.

"And you're going in a sheet?" I questioned.

"Yep." Sherlock answered, popping the 'p'.

When we got to where we're going, my jaw opened and I'm pretty sure I looked like a fish. Sherlock put his hand under my chin and closed my mouth, "You'll catch flies."

"We're at the Buckingham Palace, and you came with no pants?" I questioned with a smile, "You trying to make a statement?"

Sherlock smirked and held out his arm. I locked mine with his and we were led inside the Buckingham Palace and we were led to a room and we sat down on a couch.

"Dr. Watson will be here shortly." The man said before leaving the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Soon enough, John came in and looked at us in confusion. Sherlock rolled his eyes and shrugged. John sat on the other side of me and looked over at Sherlock,

"You wearing any pants?"

"No." He answered immediately.

"Okay." John replied.

We all looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Buckingham Palace. Right." John cleared his throat, "Oh, I am seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray. What are we doing here, Sherlock Holmes? Seriously, what."

"I don't know." Sherlock answered.

"Is it to see the Queen?" I asked.

We looked over as Mycroft entered the room, "Oh, apparently, yes." Sherlock said nad we laughed again.

"Just once can you three behave like grown ups?" Mycroft asked.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it, she bites people, and he forgets his pants. So I wouldn't hold out too much hope." John replied.

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock stated.

"What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. A bit obvious, surely." Mycroft replied.

"Transparent."

"Time to move on, then." Mycroft said, grabbing Sherlock's clothes and holding it out for Sherlock, "We are in Buckingham Palace. The very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on."

"What for?" Sherlock asked.

"Your client." Mycroft answered.

"And my client is?" Sherlock asked, standing up.

"Illustrious in the extreme and remaining, I have to inform you, entirely anonymous." A man in a suit answered, walking in and John and I stood up. "Mycroft."

"Eric." Mycroft greeted, "May I just apologize for the state of my little brother."

"Full-time occupation, I imagine." Eric replied. "And this must be Dr. John Watson and Amelia Jones."

"Hello. Yes." John replied, shaking his hand.

"My employer is a big fan of your blog." Eric said to John before I held my hand out for Eric to shake, except he raised it to his mouth and kissed the back of my hand.

"You employer?" John questioned.

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminum crutch." Eric replied and John gave Sherlock a look.

"And Mr. Holmes, the younger. You look taller in your photographs." Eric said.

"Took the precaution of a good coat and short friends." Sherlock replied and I smack his arm for the twentieth time today.

He looked down at me, "What is with you and hitting me?"

"'Cause you're rude." I replied.

Sherlock rolled his eyes before walking up to Mycroft, "Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends are too much work. Good morning."

Sherlock started walking towards the door and Mycroft stepped on the piece of sheet trailing behind Sherlock and the sheet fell from his body, he barely caught it before it would reveal his bum. Though, I wouldn't mind to be honest.

"This is a matter of National importance. Grow up." Mycroft said.

"Get off my sheet." Sherlock hissed.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll just walk away." Sherlock answered.

"I'll let you." Mycroft replied.

"Boys, please. Not here." I said.

"Who. Is. My. Client?!" Sherlock asked.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction." Mycroft replied. "You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake, put your clothes on."

I sighed before grabbing Sherlock's clothes and walked up to him and grabbing his hand, "Come on, you child. You're making Mycroft upset."

"Me? Child? What about him?" Sherlock replied as I led him to another room which was conveniently the bathroom.

I turned around so he could get dressed, "You were both acting like children. So... the boomerang that was in the stream. That killed the hiker, right?"

"Very good." Sherlock answered, "You're getting better after each case."

"Well, I am learning from the best." I replied before turning around as he was buttoning his shirt.

"True." He responded, staring down at me before leaving and I followed.

When we got back, there were tea cups and a kettle on the table between the couches and we sat down while Mycroft poured tea, "I'll be mother."

"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell." Sherlock replied.

"My employer has a problem." Eric said.

"Matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potential criminal behavior. And in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft continued.

"Why? You have a police force of sorts. Even a Marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" Sherlock questioned.

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes?" Eric asked.

"Not to date, anyone with the Navy." Sherlock replied.

"This is a matter of the highest security, therefore of trust." Mycroft responded.

"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" I questioned.

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money." Mycroft replied.

"I do think we have a time table." Eric said to Mycroft.

"Yes, of course." Mycroft grabbed a briefcase and opened it before showing Sherlock a picture, "What do you know about this woman?"

"Nothing whatsoever." Sherlock answered.

"Then you should be paying more attention. She's been at the center of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately." Mycroft replied.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Irene Adler. Professionally know as The Woman. professionally there are many names for what she does. She prefers Dominatrix." Mycroft stated.

"Dominatrix." Sherlock muttered.

"Don't be alarmed. It has to do with sex." Mycroft replied.

"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock hissed.

"How would you know?" Mycroft asked and everyone seemed to look at me.

"Oi! Don't look at me!" I exclaimed before pouting and crossing my arms.

"Anyway, she provides, shall we say, recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing, and are prepared to pay for it. These are all from her website." Mycroft continued, showing Sherlock more pictures

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs?" Sherlock asked.

"Very quick, Mr. Holmes." Eric replied.

"Hardly difficult deduction." Sherlock commented. "Photographs of whom?"

"A person of significance to my employer." Eric answered. "We prefer not to say anymore at this time."

"You can't tell us anything?" John questioned.

"I can tell you it's a young person. A young female person." Mycroft replied.

I saw Sherlock smirk, "How many photographs?"

"A considerable number, apparently." Mycroft answered.

"Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?"

"Yes, they do." Mycroft answered.

"Then I assume in a number of compromising scenarios?" Sherlock continued.

"An imaginative range, we are assured." You could tell Mycroft was getting fed up.

"John, you might want to put that cup back in its saucer now." Sherlock commented.

"Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?" Eric asked.

"How?" Sherlock replied.

"Will you take the case?"

"What case? Pay here now, and in full. As Adler remarks in her masthead, know when you are beaten." Sherlock said.

"She doesn't want anything." Mycroft replied. "She got in touch. She informed us that the photographs existed. She indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor."

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a Dominatrix. Oh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?" Sherlock stated.

"Sherlock." John began.

"Where is she?" Sherlock asked as he grabbed his coat.

"In London, currently. She's staying-" Mycroft began.

Sherlock grabbed my hand and we started walking towards the doors, "Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day."

"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" Eric questioned.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs." Sherlock answered.

"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think." Eric said.

Sherlock had that deducing look on his face again, "I'll need some equipment, of course."

"Anything you require. I'll have it sent over." Mycroft replied.

"Can I have a box of matches?" Sherlock asked Eric.

"I'm sorry?"

"Or your cigarette lighter." Sherlock continued. "Either will do."

"I don't smoke." Eric stated.

"No, I know you don't, but your employer does." Sherlock replied.

My eyes widened and Eric grabbed the cigarette lighter, "We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes."

"I'm not the commonwealth." Sherlock replied.

"And that's as modest as he gets." John said. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Laters." Sherlock called out as we left.

We called a cab and got in, silent until John spoke, "Okay, the smoking. How did you know?"

"The evidence is right under your nose, John. As ever you see but do not observe." Sherlock answered.

"Like what?" I asked.

Sherlock pulled something out of his coat, "Ashtray."

We got back and Sherlock dragged me into his bedroom, "What are we doing?"

"I need to change. You're a woman, you can tell me if it looks good or not." He answered.

Soon enough, Sherlock started flinging his clothes around and I heard John in the other room, "What are you doing?"

"Going to battle, John." Sherlock answered. "I need the right armour."

Sherlock put on a yellow police jacket and I laughed, "Nope."

So, in the end, Sherlock didn't even change. He put his coat and scarf on and we left the flat again, "So, what's the plan?"

"We know her address." Sherlock replied.

'We just ring the doorbell?" I asked.

"Exactly." Sherlock answered, winking at me before looking at the cabbie driver, "Just here, please."

"You didn't even change your clothes." John commented.

"I was trying to add a splash of color." Sherlock replied.

We got out of the cab and walked down an alley as Sherlock took off his scarf and handed it to me and I looked at it in confusion,

"We're here?" John asked.

"Uh, two streets away. But this will do." Sherlock answered.

"For what?" John asked.

"Punch me in the face." Sherlock ordered.

"Punch you?" John questioned.

"Yes. Punch me in the face. Didn't you hear me?" Sherlock replied.

"I always hear punch me in the face when you're speaking, but it's usually subtitles." John answered.

"Oh, for God's sakes." Sherlock muttered before taking a swing at John.

I gasped as John stumbled back and punched Sherlock in the cheek.

"Thank you, that was-" Sherlock began, holding his now bleeding cheek and John tackled him.

"I think we've done enough, John." Sherlock gasped.

"You've got to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier." John replied. "I kill people."

"You are a doctor." Sherlock said.

"I had bad days." John responded.

Once they broke it off we went down two streets to Adler's home. Sherlock rang the doorbell and took a deep breath.

"Hello." We heard from the speaker.

"Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am. Um, I've just been attacked. Um, uh,, uh, I think they, they took my wallet and, um, and my phone. Uh, please, could you help me?" Sherlock asked.

I was surprised. He was a very good actor, almost had me fooled.

"I can phone the police if you want." The woman replied.

"Thank you. Thank you. Could you, please? Oh, would you- would you mind if my girlfriend and I just waited here just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much." Sherlock asked and my eyes widened.

Girlfriend?

Sherlock held a napkin to his scratch and let out a small sob. We were let in, Sherlock gripping my hand tight and John behind me.

"Thank you." Sherlock told the redhead.

"I saw it all happen. It's okay. I'm a doctor." John said as he closed the door, "Now, have you got a first aid kit?"

"In the kitchen." The redhead answered.

"I'll go with you." I told John before looking at Sherlock, "You're going to be just fine."

If Sherlock really did say that I was his girlfriend, then I wasn't believable enough. So, I stood on the tips of my toes and kissed him gently on the mouth before following a surprised John into the kitchen to get something for Sherlock.


	13. Chapter 13

"What was that?" John asked when the redhead woman left.

"What was what?" I replied, finding a bowl to fill with water.

"You just kissed Sherlock." He whispered.

I set the bowl down and faced John, "He called me his girlfriend! What was I supposed to do?"

"You could've kissed him on the cheek." John offered.

"It was bloody." I protested.

"Then kiss the other one."

"I didn't think of that at the time." I snapped before filling the bowl with water. "This discussion is done, let's go get Sherlock."

John grabbed a napkin and we left the room to find him.

"Right, This should do it." John said, walking into the room and I stopped.

There was Sherlock, sitting on the couch, and Irene, naked, standing right in front of him.

"We've missed something, haven't we?" I asked, looking down at the bowl of water. feeling self-conscious.

Irene took the paper out of her mouth, "Please, sit down." She backed away from Sherlock, "Oh, if you'd like some tea, I can call the maid."

"I had some at the Palace." Sherlock replied.

"I know." Irene replied and I sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Sherlock.

"Plenty."

Sherlock had his deducing face, but he also looked confused.

"I had, tea, too, from the Palace, if anyone's interested." John said.

Sherlock looked back and forth from Irene and I. He can't deduce anything from her, I could tell. She isn't wearing anything, that might be a big problem. You can tell a lot about a person by their clothes. He also looked at John, too.

"Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Irene asked. "How ever hard you try it's always a self-portrait."

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock questioned.

"I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself. Somebody loves you. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth, too." Irene said, looking at the three of us.

John laughed humorlessly, "Could you put something on, please? Uh, anything at all. A napkin."

Yes, please.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene questioned.

"A bit." I mumbled.

"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock commented, standing up and handing Irene his coat.

"No. I think he knows exactly where." She also stood up and stood in front of John, who was struggling not to look down. "I'm not sure about you."

"If I wanted to look at women I'd borrow John's laptop." Sherlock replied.

"You do borrow my laptop." John said.

"I confiscate it." Sherlock corrected.

"Oh, never mind. We've got better things to talk about." Irene said as she put on Sherlock's coat and sat down, "Now, tell me. I need to know. How was it done?"

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"The hiker with the bashed in head. How was he killed?" Irene asked.

I opened my mouth to answer but Sherlock put a finger to my mouth, "Shh."

"That's not why I'm here." Sherlock said.

"No, no, no. You're here for the photographs, but that's never going to happen, since we're here just chatting anyway." Irene replied.

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" John asked her.

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes." Irene answered.

"Oh," John sat in between me and Irene, "And you like policemen?"

"I like detective stories and detectives. Brainy is the new sexy." Irene then looked at me, "So, you know what killed the hiker?"

"Of course she does, Amelia's not stupid. Business with the car relative to the killer at the time of the backfire." Sherlock said quickly and paced. "The fact that the death blow was to the back of the head, that's all you need to know."

"Okay. Tell me, how was he murdered?"

"Amelia?" Sherlock looked at me.

"He wasn't murdered." I said.

"You don't think it was murder?" Irene questioned, looking at the two of us.

"We know it wasn't." Sherlock answered.

"How?"

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel, and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room." Sherlock continued.

"Okay. But how?" Irene continued to ask.

"So they are in this room? Thank you. John, Amelia, man the room. Let no one in." Sherlock said.

I set the bowl down and John and I left the room and closed the door behind us. I walked over to a cabinet and grabbed a newspaper and John got out the lighter Sherlock got from Eric. Once John lit the paper on fire, he raised it towards the smoke alarm and the loud beeping noise echoed through out the house.

"Amelia, John, you can turn it off now." Sherlock said from inside the room. "I said you can turn it off now."

"Give us a minute." I called out as John tried to stop the smoke.

A few men came down the stairs and shot the alarm and pointed their guns at us and John and raised our hands.

"Thank you." John said.

They pinned our arms behind our backs and listened to the conversation in the room. One of the men opened the door and pulled us inside,

"Hands behind your head. On the floor. Keep it still." The American man said as we were pushed down onto my knees,

"Sorry, Sherlock." I said.

"Miss Adler, on the floor." The American ordered.

"Don't you want me on the floor, too?" Sherlock asked.

"No, sir. I want you to open the safe." He replied.

"American. Interesting." Sherlock commented. "Why would you care?"

"Sir, the safe. Now, please."

"I don't know the code." Sherlock said.

"You've been listening. She said she told you." The American replied.

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'll don't she didn't." Sherlock responded.

"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation I'm assuming you didn't, Mr. Holmes."

"For god's sake, she's the one that knows the code. Ask her." John said.

"Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman." The American replied.

"Mr. Holmes doesn't-" Irene began.

"Shut up." The American snarled. "One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be hardship."

"Rude." I whispered.

The American glared at me, "Mr. Archer, at the count of three shoot Miss Jones."

"I don't know the code." Sherlock said as the man behind me grabbed my hair and pulled my head back harshly and I gasped in pain, pushing the barrel of the gun into my temple.

"One."

"I don't know the code."

"Two."

I wasn't worried. I trust Sherlock. I know he won't let the man kill me.

"She didn't tell me. I don't know it!" Sherlock yelled.

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now." The American replied. "Three."

"No, stop!" Sherlock yelled.

I looked up and saw him turn to the safe. He pushed six buttons and it opened.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Open it, please."

Sherlock twisted the knob, "African cameos."

John grabbed my arm and pushed me down. The man behind me fell, and John and Irene took care of the rest of the men.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock asked Irene, who had the gun pointed at the man.

"Not at all." She replied before hitting him in the face.

"He's dead." John said, looking at the man who pointed a gun at me.

"Thank you. You were very observant." Irene said.

"Observant?" John questioned.

"I'm flattered." Irene commented.

"Don't be." Sherlock replied before walking over to me and taking my face in his hands "Are you okay?"

"Fine." I answered.

"Flattered?" John questioned.

"They'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building." Sherlock stated before grabbing my hand and the three of us left.

"We should call the police." John said.

"Yes." Sherlock replied before shooting the gun into the air, "On their way."

"For god's sake."

"Oh, shut up. It's quick." Sherlock replied.

"Check the rest of the house. See how they got in." Sherlock told us and we went upstairs.

We went into a bedroom and saw a window open and the redhead from before on the floor, "Sherlock." I called.

"Is she alive?" I asked as we waited.

"Unconscious." John said.

"Came in this way." I told Sherlock as he entered the room.

"It's all right. She's just out cold." John told Irene who was looking at the girl.

"Well, god knows she's used to that. There's a back door. Better check it, Dr. Watson." Irene said.

Sherlock nodded at John and he left.

"You're very calm." Sherlock told Irene, "Your booby trap did just kill a man."

"He would have killed me." Irene replied. "It was self-defense in advance."

I went over to the window in the bathroom to check to see if anyone else was coming in. I heard a painful gasp,

"What is that? What?"

I turned around and saw Sherlock lying on the floor.

"Give it to me now." Irene said, holding out her hand.

"No."

"What did you do?" I asked, coming back into the room.

Irene grabbed her riding crop and slapped me in the face hard enough to send me to the floor. She also hit Sherlock a few times and he dropped the phone.

"Thank you, dear." Irene said as she grabbed it and I stood up.

"John!" I yelled and she hit me again before speaking to Sherlock.

"Jesus. What are you doing?" John asked, coming into the room.

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse. As for the girl, she'll have a nasty bruise for a while." Irene said as she went towards the window.

"What have you given him?" John asked.

"He'll be fine. I've used it on loads of my friends." Irene answered.

I crawled over to Sherlock, "Sherlock, can you hear me?"

"I was wrong about him." Irene said, "He did know where to look."

"For what? What are you talking about?" John questioned.

"The key code to my safe."

"What was it?"

"My measurements." Irene answered as sirens came closer to the house and she disappeared.

John went over to the window and Sherlock tried to sit up.

"Sherlock, stay down." I told him, pushing on his shoulder.

After we dealt with the police, John and I took Sherlock home. We dragged him into his bedroom and I took off his suit jacket and his shoes before covering him in his blankets.

I left the room to get ready to sleep. I changed into my pajamas and looked at the bruising mark on my cheek. She really hit me hard. I was in the kitchen, tidying up a bit when I heard Sherlock's voice.

"John? Amelia?"

John was already upstairs so I opened Sherlock's door and I saw him fall off the bed and onto the floor.

"You okay?" I asked.

"How did I get here?" Sherlock questioned.

"I don't think you remember much, you weren't really making any sense. Oh, I should warn you, I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone." I said.

"Where is she?"

"Where is who?" I asked.

"The Woman. That woman." Sherlock explained as he stumbled around. "The evil. The woman woman."

"Oh, Irene Adler? She got away. No one saw her. She wasn't here, Sherlock. Or at least, I didn't see her." I answered.

Sherlock fell to the ground and I helped him up, "No, no, no, no. Back to bed."

I led him to his bed and helped him lay down before covering him with a blanket, "You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep."

"Of course I'll be fine. I am fine." Sherlock replied. "I'm absolutely fine."

"Yes, you're great. I'll be in the living room if you need me." I said before leaving.


End file.
